Monday, October 24, 2016


Well, it is like someone playing keyboards, 
meditatively, way high on the scale, as high
as the the sound will go. Or like a steampunk
mosquito swaying at my ear. Or like 
a silver brightness, not quite seen.
It is what silence sounds like now:
the goddess of hazards who hums as she works;
or the sift of the sunrise between steel clouds.


Sabine said...

Mine are tinkerbell sitting in a truck running idle. But I forget to listen mostly.
The British poet David Harsent it is the sound of thin January rain turning into ice.

Dale said...

:-) It's funny how much it bothered me once. Somehow, learning to think of it as "how silence sounds now" was what made it okay.