Burdens of Light
The silences of country life are more
Like shades than sounds. So quiet that they seem
Like pastel tints in watercolors or
The light beneath acanthus leaves we dream.
Those silences are more like mist at dawn
Above a pond than like a lack of sound.
They have their shadowed rhythms brought upon
By sunrise, noontime, and the twilights bound
To evening slants. These silences are pale
Like winds that play with orange maple trees,
Or paler, like air fingers reading Braille
Inscribed on birches by an autumn breeze.
..Forget the creaking branches, far too loud.
….These silences are like a winter shroud.
