His garden of peace

There goes a man 

walking like a branch 

blown free from the forest 

getting lost until the breeze 

eats the sound of his feet 

he carries many good memories 

and disappointments 

into the future 

where all will be divided 

among those who sleep in the day 

faces and voices of loved ones 

float by and rest 

in the perfect stillness 

of rocks and sand 

and the falling leaves 

he walks until his heart turns to

gold and there he buries it with seeds 

under the spring rains 

and soft green buds 

quietly stroking the air.

Terry Mulert