The Lonely Pursuit of Silence
Perfect silence (there's no such thing).The AC breathes recycled air, the cell will ring,
beckoning me; the dehumidifier must sing:
sucking up the moisture is a noisy thing.
Outside a birdsong is muted by whooshing cars,
creating a cacophony of atonal bars,
whoosh, whoosh, wham. the intrusion jars
the senses and I ponder: is it quiet on mars?
And still, the birdsongs, the cicadas, a crow,
the wild dogs' nocturnal howls, a lonely heifer's low:
silence is elusive, but soothing falls the snow;
There's music in the discord, I've come to know.
Poetry by William Hughes
Written on 2026-08-16 at 16:38
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