So Still, So Quiet

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?