In the supposed silence of the night are the sounds of life. The howl of the wind. The rustle of the trees. The scurrying of the animals. The cries of babies. And each bit of it is holy and precious.
Where do you find the holy in the world around you?
on solitude and
the symphony of silence
in the concert hall named “quietness”
bright notes of wind chimes sound
a distant choir is voiced by dogs
and songs of birds abound
the whirring of a ceiling fan
that whispers through the night
accompanies the neighbor’s car
and growling planes in flight
an auto horn disturbs the calm
the whistle of a train
recalls me to the wider world
and all I have to gain
out there beyond the boist’rous
silence I’ve enjoyed alone
where solitude creates a path
to peace, and joy is known