Silence

There is a soft snowfall this morning

and the trees are perfectly kissed with white

 

and there is silence here

 

A kind of quiet that is anything but

Chickadees happily chatting

throwing spent husks over their shoulders

a steady bombing of miniscule refuse onto the deck below

Pages of books slowly turning against the sound of another's breath

the way the chimney talks in response to the fires heat

soft pops and creaks

a steady heartbeat of warming steel

 

There is silence here

 

We fall easily into this life

Breathing deeper and moving slower

Hands on hips in tiny spaces

become a slow dancing conversation

necessary for sharing small distances

 hot stove and cold winter air

Mere footsteps between

 

There is silence here

 

the kind of quiet that sinks into a soul

rhythmic and wild and

pulsing with life

Elusive in worlds shared with forced air furnaces

and TV's

 

If mittened hands clasped tight

and roughened beards against smooth cheeks cannot be heard

then what more are we missing?

 

There is silence here