The Snow Storm
A blizzard locks down my small street.
There’s nothing to do to change the conditions—
shoveling is a lost cause.
Still, I work outside as silence falls.
A thousand hidden noises speak louder in snow:
the slosh as I push the snow aside;
the birds hovering in the thin hedge branches;
the way a flake lands on a child’s tongue.
The quiet arrives from a great distance,
from grey clouds. I do not pay attention
to what I am doing in the cold silence.
The quiet tells me, listen closer, listen deeply.
Editor’s Note: This poem circles around a central plea—listen to the silence.