Silence is not.
It is an invitation to attend
the distant rush of cars,
the conversation of tree branches,
the unspoken movement of the crows.
The space that surrounds me
is silence of its own.
The air that does not fill
has itself a weight
laying on my coat, over my body.
I feel my own hush
cut sharply by the swing of my legs,
the soles of my shoes,
the pleas my hips mutter
when they think I am not listening.
I fill the silence within me
and touch the bright space without:
I hear you, I attend
cars, crows, separate conversations
between atoms and void.
Posted from WordPress for Android