quietly stood on the bridge over the silent railway
mist resting calmly across a field
my ears hear the whispering voices of people my eyes cannot seecoming and going on the breeze
gently mixing with the sound of the calm all around me
the ice from the early morning silently persisting under the shadows along one side of the lane
the opposite side
the side in the weak winter sun
quietly dries
and as I walk
without a sound
sunlight flickers through the bare winters hedge
silently sleeping
awaiting the warmth of spring
like the apples on the trees in the orchard
quietly awaiting the signal to start the cycle once more
