I sat in a quiet place
Deep in the woods
Very far away
From humans and their
Vibrating city’s sounds
The constant swish of
Cars driving down her streets.
But more than that, the
Prattle and chat of voices gone
There were no songs
Of city birds, fattened and sure
That water and the next meal would come.
No, not the hum of crickets
Not the buzz of flies and mosquitoes
No, nothing to break the sounds
Of my own thinking.
So, when a sound is made
A woodpecker, hawk
or Owl’s tirade, does
Tear the silence into full awareness—
Your mind plays tricks and
Fills the silence with
Sounds of worry, fear and dread.
For the next sound that plays
Will surely be more deadly
Than a bird fetching its morning meal.
