Sounds of Silence

[This is an excerpt from future blogs titled:

Morality of a Male Menopausal Cynocephali

— see featured image — Due out in 2018]

 

Fresh grass is growing on the patch

The patch where ground was broken

All the way down into the heart, the hearth

Where blood gut soil worms are   congealed

 

Bluejays are screaming, screeching, screeeching

The Red Tail is circling quietly, making bluejays nervous

Deer are cautious

They tip toe quietly

 

Chipmunks zoom through the dry colorful leaves

Squirrels are tentative, blatant

Turkeys are majestic,

Slow and deliberate

 

It is quiet

You can hear an acorn drop

Roll through the leaves  without a sound

It is dead quiet

 

It is serene

You can feel your heartbeat

You can hear your heart beat

It is dead serene

 

It is quiet, serene, quite serene

It is comforting

It is dead comforting

It is comforting the living

 

It is comforting the dead

It is comforting

Yet, there is bickering

This, that, the other

 

A butterfly flutters its wings

Cuts through the bicker,

the thicker bicker

There, its quiet again

Serene and quiet

 

Once again turkeys strut, deer stroll

Chipmunks flutter, squirrels stutter

The butterfly rules

The Red Tail is above all

 

I think i will come back here

Again.