A snow, a silence
Delicate masterpieces falling so softly
that the silence is overwhelming.
A silence so soft you can float in it,
so loud, you become lost in it,
and so still, you can touch it.
A silence that implodes on itself and
spreads through you,
chilling you with its warmth.
The pure, the clean, the white,
graces whatever it touches.
The trees breathe the divine silence,
and the world glistens,
sparkles,
listens,
to the magnificent silence.
It sparkles like glass, the sweet sugar of stillness,
A field of white is a holy ground,
and the air between the homes and trees:
a sanctuary.
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Each crystal a universe unto itself,
a flurry is a dance of worlds:
swirling, waltzing, transporting.
But black, harsh words cannot hold such a silence
in their fat, clumsy hands.
It is bigger, omnipresent, and more glorious than we can feel or hold.
We can only preserve the Silence
by listening.
The Post Bulletin publishes poetry by local and area writers every Monday. Send poems to life@postbulletin.com .
