The Visit Poem by Chris Schleier, Jr.

O, birds of the trees
and mice of the hills

on the wings of the breeze
come the seldom felt chills.

Open your eyes.
Look to the skies.

The wind whistle cries

of the visit.

Lay down your strife
O, men of the land.

A beauty of life
is swiftly at hand.

Breathe in the air.
Breathe out your care.

In this, you prepare

for the visit.

O, come winds of might!
O, come clouds of gray!

Bring down the white:
brighten dismay!

Lay on the scene.
Make it serene.

Let silence be seen

in the visit.