It is a wonderful poem, Steve. It sounds to me like you understand those wonderful sounds of nature. They say silence is deafening; it surely is. When all my kids went to school, I thought, "WOW at last I'll have some peace and quiet." After a few days, all I could hear was the clock on the wall and the silence WAS deafening.

The beat of the silence in my home is lonely for me. The noise level in my house would break the sound barrier, especially on Sundays when all the kids and grandkids are here...and I love it. Some people tell me I tune everything out; I said, "That is the greatest gift any mother can have." I guess it's all what you're used to.

In the forest, even when the birds are quiet and the squirrels stop chattering, there is a silent sound of nature...silent, and yet, if you listen, you can hear it. You can hear the footsteps of those who once walked there, but are no longer here.  You can hear the sunshine and the air. You can hear the clouds float gently by. You can hear time passing and life happening. Yes, within my home when I am alone, the silence is deafening, but never, never out there in the middle of a forest.

Your poem speaks of the wonders and the peace of the sounds of nature: a welcome silence. Someone told me it was ‘babbling brooks’, not ‘bubbling brooks’...I said NO; I knew what I was writing. 'Babbling' would not describe the sound I heard. AND, by the way, I'll add our fishing trip to my hopes and dreams list.