Sometimes
when we think it's quiet
it's not.
A cup of warm tea next to a window
filled with pale blue light
and the thought:
It's so quiet this morning
But listen
the hum of the refrigerator
there's water running
and somewhere nearby a neighbor fell asleep with the TV on
A walk through the woods
a canopy of green above and a carpet of leaves below
the fertility of generations
thinking:
I love these woods, so peaceful and quiet
But listen
the birds above call to one another
a morningsong of joy and the labor of living another day
the dog as he pads and pants joyfully
the leaves of the trees rustle
petticoats in a Viennese waltz.
And so it is with life.
When we think it's quiet
it isn't
When we think we're alone
we are not
When we cry out and think there's no one there
to hear us
or to answer us
We only need to open our ears
