Morning and Silence


it’s too early to be light out.      so quiet
as though the world were holding bated breath,
listening for that mouse in the corner—it
always comes out this time of day to hunt,
last sojourn of the night before these giants
rouse and rule again the house.     but not even
the mouse stirs.     a room away that old clock
tick-tick-ticks its steady heartbeat, even
it seems subdued.     in a moment, my coffee
cup perhaps still steaming, I must go to
the big town for a day of work, that thing
I do on occasion when they call, though
we wish it more common  .  .  .  and at day’s end
I’ll come back home to listen for that mouse.

David M Pitchford
14 Nov 2011

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