Quiet

RainFallLast night I sat outside at sunset wrapped in a blanket, Miles Davis playing from inside the house, watching the light in the sky move as the clouds shifted. A hummingbird sat on a telephone line, rising momentarily and settling back on to the line in the quiet. It began to rain- a gentle rain, almost as though it didn’t want to disturb anything or make a scene, just to touch the earth with humility and disappear into the wood like two lovers.

I sat in the rain smelling the air change. Quiet as it was the rain did make a sound- not sounds distinguishable as individual drops meeting the leaves and stone, but a soft uniform sound. A sound at once close and distant as if it contained in it the touching of the bamboo leaves across the yard as well as the skin of my ears.

My parents were gone for the evening and the whole universe felt still. The music drifting out, the rain kissing the everything with such… quiet ….some kind of quiet- a quiet not just absence of sound, but a pervading peaceful quiet that actually has sound woven into it’s divine invitation to listen and learn what certain sounds share with certain silences.

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