Says A Sunday Breeze Poem by Dick Holmes
Says A Sunday Breeze
'There are words for things, '
says a Sunday breeze gusting in the trees,
'but things themselves are wordless.
And actually there is only one thing —
everything and nothing at once —
so let these butterfly words that
flutter into your mind, dear heart, fly on
through to the Garden of Silence.'
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Topic(s) of this poem: butterfly,silence,words
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8/29/2026 11:08:22 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
