Silence

There,

the absence

of road signs,

lumbering houseflies,

or sniffing,

is like slow honey

There, is a stillness

into which your thoughts

forget for a while

to crave attention

and you, held, are welcomed.

Not weighed

That silence

sits in a father

waiting for the prodigal.

A mother gathering her chicks.

Or a surfer taken beyond flight

by an endless wave

Here,

all is well.

Silence that seeps through the air

unnoticed until it is too late

and you drink deep draughts

of what you have

always longed for