The silence I’ve come to know
isn’t really silence.
It’s merely all the noises
that I’ve never stopped to
In the absence of every other macabre noise,
I can hear what is always
beneath the humdrum.
and full of life.
Something not entirely human,
because humanity is louder
And this isn’t necessarily quiet
just not loud
And when I hear what so often
is merely background noise,
I am compelled to notice
all of the other things
that fade into the background.
The little ripples in the water,
from the bugs alighting on the surface
or my feet gently shifting,
the notion of a world
that lingers among the lily pads and seaweed.
The pink blooms on the brush
near the wooded shore,
the diamond glitter of
the water furthest from the dock.
The can of strawberry Arnold Palmer
perched on the post of the dock,
a heat on my scalp,
a pull in my neck,
a cool comfortability of my feet
lingering in the water.
The way the sun reflects against the water’s surface,
surrounded by a rainbow halo of clouds,
that maybe I’ve heard this song before,
that I’ve definitely heard this song before,
that I want to hear this song again.
I am always scared of these moments ending.
I wish they never would,
but their beauty is in the knowledge
that they end,
that I will return to the humdrum,
to something less surreal.
I will also come back
to something that is not
and I can be content in that knowledge.