Something I long for lately is silence, mostly the silence of the outdoors, which ironically is not fully silent, but the noises all lend themselves to the feeling of silence, and rest, that beautiful word. This poem was written a few years ago, but celebrates the beauty of silence.

Silence in the morning when muted shadows
Move and melt in the noiseless velvet of undawned day
I trace the distant dim horizon, seeking for sun
Gathering strength from the promise of light

Silence at noon, so rare, rare, when the still heat
Presses down on the prairie world around me
I move through rustling stalks and listen to the wind
Speaking its great empty silence

Silence in the evening when scalloped curved clouds
Tumble and wisp about at the touch of sun
I drink in the stillness, the grace of unmarred quiet
Silence of the dying of another day

Silence in the moonlight when beauty’s anguish
Sobs for words that cannot come and I soak in
The painful healing loneliness; gazing at the night sky
With God, bathing in the silence; silence