The moon is full and shining brightly in the west,
Making friends with the indifferent mountain peaks
Illuminating the fields high with grass,
And nodding ferns
Their shadows dancing towards the nearby forest,
Still dark and quiet.
The Big Dipper,
Orion,
And Cassiopeia
Are hanging in the north and east,
Blinking stoically,
Watching over us.
A distant dog barks without much conviction.
Roosters are crowing their farewells to the night
And calling the dawn.
It is a new day.
Good morning.
There is a puzzle
Of which I am a part
Jigsaw like
And pieces as they are so created
Either fit just so
Congruent, compatible, matching
Or not at all
Edges rough, unyielding, un-abiding
And child-like I have tried
sometimes
To make my fit
To force the edges to obey my
will, my way
Even though I do also know the
parts and portions
Sometimes morph organically,
magically
Given time
And what once did not match or
suit
Now work with ease
Edges complimenting edges seamlessly
Growing so in ways unforced
In ways that seem to play out
perfectly
Naturally
Peacefully.
It is very quiet,
Not a ripple of sound
Save the rain in the pines and oaks.
It drains unheard but not silently
Into the nearby lake
As tongues of water lap
Gently onto the shore.
The world is on the move…
Is there such a thing as silence?
If the dead had ears
They might just hear
The scratching of the cilia
Of the passing worms.
Could it ever be so still
That the living could hear
The thunderous chorus
Of seven billion heartbeats?
Could it ever be so quiet?
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