Shout

In the hush of morning mist,
A single voice can break the hush—
A shout that tears the quiet veil,
Sending ripples through the vale.

It climbs the hill, it slides the brook,
It rattles panes in old town nook,
Echoes off the stone‑cobbled lane,
Where laughter mingles with the rain.

A shout is more than mere loud sound,
It’s heart laid bare, profound, unbound—
A call to friends, a warning cried,
A burst of joy that cannot hide.

So let your voice rise, clear and stark,
Like trumpets heard in twilight dark—
For every shout, though brief and fleet,
Leaves a mark upon the street.