Pollution—
the roar of cars, the gas—
had driven away
the forest’s hush
and the whispers of insects
from the campground by the highway.

But after a night of rain,
morning light spilled softly,
and through the misty woods
God sent a flock of birds.

The rain washed the forest clean,
and suddenly it breathed again.
Their clear, chattering calls,
flying in tight formation,
cut through my chest,
echoing across the trees,
shaking the woods awake.

Those cries,
the murmurs of a returning morning,
long vanished from me,
filled my heart.

I am grateful
for the music of life restored.

—Yoon Tae-Hun, August 18, 1998