Silence

Here in this house
one must look hard
for Silence, a thing
to be hunted,
sought after and stolen.

It is elusive
and hidden in shadow,
the shadows cast
by a wide oak trunk
and long branches
shrouding fallen leaves.

It is space—
between our hands
before they touch,
clasping a cacophony
of sound
and feeling,

or between the words
we mumble
to one another
at four in the morning
just before the sun
fires through the blackness
like a cannon.

Don't question,
take a moment,
try to hear it sing.