In this forest of dancing trees,
haunting sounds slip among waving branches.
Cries and groans chill the air
as though someone is screaming from pain.

I crane my head this way and that
trying to find the injured rabbit,
lost fawn
or maybe a trapped raccoon.

Soon I see it’s the wind blowing
the trees against each other,
rubbing their limbs
the way we do in our days.

We souls must brush against each other
abrading the bark that shields us,
making us vulnerable,
open to receive.

The groans, the screeches,
are really a love song that escapes our lips.
Its lyrics say, “Please, Beloved,
help me know You.”

In that opening,
the haunting departs,
replaced by an orchestra:
the crack, a glee of percussion,

the whine, a lilting flute
the wail, rolling waves of cello,
weaving the profound symphony
of Divine love.

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