Quiet Mischief in a Damn Fine Universe

a shirt button strikes carpet
like a mouse tapping a conch shell
with a pine needle

the button threads dangle
in the happy memories of their
tightly crossed youth

when the air moves slowly
we don’t call it wind
and tree leaves abandon their chatter

the crunch of gravel beneath tires
falsely accuses silence of a mischief
that no one cares to name

the language takes its glory
in noise making, and tangles us
in an infinite knot of meanings

but silence knows no mischief
and so we busy ourselves
with gossip about its secrets

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “Quiet Mischief in a Damn Fine Universe

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s