The woods awash in moonlight,
silence broken by a single pine needle
tumbling from limb to limb
in search of ground.  The leaps
resound – or is that the moon
whispering sweet nuthins?

My back against an oak
I remember the crisp of leaves
beneath my feet.
Every star shines through a gauzy wrap
as if fog could muffle the sound of sparkle;
such success another miracle.

Somewhere back there
in a world beyond the trees
a light shines from the kitchen window,
the refrigerator hums,
 the heart beat of a clock
adds cadence to the night.

Swaddled in the familiar
I celebrate this silence
that sings.

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