4: 08 A.M. Poem by RIC BASTASA

before i end this writing
let me not forget those hypocrites who make
the procession at dawn
announcing their prayers on speakers
on the streets of this
little town

disturbing the peace of Moslems
and pagans

do they not see how the trees stretch their arms
in prayer
to the boundless skies
all in the silence of its thousand leaves?

or the sea
with boundless shores extending far beyond its narrow confines
praying to God
for the calm seas?


or the air
that merely whispers?

or the footprints following God
less the noise of
the wheels and the machines?

i miss the clear pond
tranquil
mirroring the clouds and the sun
all in
the perfect harmony of silence
and isolation
yet upon so much clarity....