In Small Noises I Call Silence
Cars seem silent in the early morning light
But the truth is I hear them out of sight.
A single car drives down my street but I
know the street soon turns to silence driving by.
The type of silence filled with wind reflecting
On leaves shhshhhing while birds chirp incoherently.
I also notice silence I’m inflecting
With head scratching and yawning, apparently
All of these things I do when I’m porch sitting.
Silence couldn’t succeed if it wanted to corrupt me
Unless it’s categorized and some how fitting
In small noises that always interrupt me.