... the Silent Night before the Happy New Year! :)) xx

WHEN WE ARE QUIET


I like my quiet with
room to breathe:

capacious like a stranger’s
offered jacket; trimmed
and softly swelling like
sheeted, luffing sails.

You like yours tight, dark
and preferably crowded:

the bar after-hours,
sweat-and-whisky fumed,
shushed by sudden shadows
of flash-torch, raiding police.

Silence goes about its
business, stealthy:

hungry as gathering storms;
empty as a bluebottle’s buzz

though its self-singing
hum’s as loaded as the
pollen-freighted bee’s.