SPRING 2004

Quiet

Bob Scott
Woodbury MM

Before my arthritis, I'd often go for a run,
Breathing fresh morning air, enhanced that feeling of fun.
I'd run down the roads and off through the wood,
And across the fields, wherever I could.

I didn't want headphones to wear on my ear,
For they’d just block the sounds that I wanted to hear.
I tried to find quiet, for what was music to me
Was the sound of a bird high up in a tree,

The rattle of leaves that crunch ’neath my feet,
The scratch of a squirrel finding something to eat.
The sound of the water as it ran o'er the stones,
Going its way, don't care what it owns.

No, quiet is not the absence of sound,
But rather the feeling of peace one has found.
That feeling I find that is often too fleeting,
Yet it always returns when I come into Meeting.

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