Yesterdays Whisper

Thunder rumbled like an angry giant in the distant East.

The hot sticky night air smelled of honeysuckles so sweet.

Flashes of cloud lightning made silhouettes of the forest trees.

Yesterday is but a whisper which often shouts, “Listen to me”.

I turn my ear away from those whispers in the night.

I stretch forth my vision in order to glimpse the approaching light.

Today will soon be yesterdays whisper built on tomorrow’s dreams.

And I shall greet the mornings rise from beneath the honeysuckles and the yawning trees.

J. Allen Wilson © 8/21/2009