Except for that woodpecker in my neighbor’s tree and a whish of traffic, the conversation between terriers through a fence a block away, some faint skateboard scratching on the sidewalk, alternating chirps and birdsongs, the padded footfalls of an avid jogger, one chattering squirrel, that distinctive upshifting from a muffler-challenged scooter, the doppler echo of classic rock out the window of a passing pickup, an invisible Lear on approach to downtown, kids laughing (but I see no kids), Louis’ yawn, tiny chicklet sounds from my laptop, and whatever is said between a robin and a worm…
except for all that
it is silent
in this surreal hour when the cloud-covered sky chokes the end of the day, and the light fades, and the exposure difference between available and incandescent balances in the middle to hand off the world to the kingdom of night.
©2016 Mark Berndt | All Rights Reserved