The Sound of Silence

Silence,
a dark blanket, quiet,
full of words waiting
to be mined
like jewels
from the depths
if I can find
my way.

It waits,
filled with ticking
clocks, jeering
censors, chirruping
tree frogs, whispering
winds, wispy outlines
of people past,
and characters future.

Circling thoughts whir
loudly in the silence.

Clouds scudding
across the sky, grumbles
of thunder preceding
a storm, the crackles
of leaves trodden
in seasons past,
the cha-cha-chack
of coffee percolating,
the pa-ping
of raindrops drumming
on tin roofs,
the che-che-chedee
as birds greet
me when I fill
the feeder,
the could-I, should-I
as I attempt
something new,
melodious crescendo
of music, painted
against the season of time.

© 2008 Lisa G. Beaudoin