filled with

the silence

filled with sound

I hear the blowfly
zzzumming

a tweet
from some small bird
is hardly sound
at all

a lonely Romeo
occasionally croaking
has set his home up
beneath a builder’s wrap

a black plastic
auditoria

every now and –

croak

– then

he sounds a heartfelt
loneliness

even silent
there is the wind
that ruffles leaves
in trees
everywhere it passes

I hear it
yes
I do

it susurrates the silence
a near inaudible
song

I am in full silence

filled with sound

Poem #598 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

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