Nothing to Say

Much seems to be normal
The sun rose
In its glorious heavenly light
The grass sparkled
In pastures of morning dew
Horses slept
Peacefully under the oak tree
Cats played
In the last of winter hay
Geese flew low
In formation over the barn
The mockingbird sang
In variations of flair and charm
Each unaware the world is suffering
If they knew would they pray
Or continue with nothing to say

Roy L. Nave
April, 2020