Poetry Month, Day 3: Silence


My house is silent
And yet

Nothing is happening, but I hear:
the ticking of the clock
the clicking of my fingers on this keyboard
the dull, repetitive patter of the leaking kitchen sink
tomorrow’s supper bubbling in the crockpot
the dog snoring
my own breathing
the vast attention of something bigger than myself, that waits

Someday I will leave, and meet the thing that waits
And it will greet me
And fold me in its arms in silent, joyous welcome.

Copyright ©2015 C. Mitchell

The Eagle Nebula


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