Looking into Silence
The quiet of the house when the dog
is gone rings undisturbed. Wind
purring through the pines is another quiet.
So is the crunch of a horse’s hooves
in sere autumn leaves. Evening has its
own calm as night bugs begin their chants.
Perhaps the quietest is snow sifting through
branches, settling on winter’s Little Bluestem.
The silence of a closing door.
Poetica Review spr 2020
