Winter Stillness
A star speckled canopy overhead,
A field of smooth white in front of me,
The jingle of Rosie’s collar,
Rings out impossibly loud.
I have stood at this spot,
Hundreds of times before,
Always listening,
To the sounds of the marsh,
To the sounds of the night.
But now a silence has fallen,
Along with the winter’s cold.
I know it is not the stillness,
Of death,
There is life here still,
But it sleeps.
The little creatures,
That will fill the air,
With buzzing, chirping,
Humming and singing,
Are either gone,
Or waiting,
For the icy grip,
Of winter to loosen.
So I have come here tonight,
To not listen to sound,
Rather the absence,
Of it.
The silence is just as magical,
As the sounds will be,
Come spring.
It tells me to slow down,
To be quiet myself,
Like the world around me,
I too should rest,
And wait for the warmth,
To return in spring.
So I leave this place,
Wrapped in winter’s cold,
My spirit quiet,
As the fields,
That surround me.
Michael Fralich
February 9, 1998