It rings in my ears,
the quiet in this house,
here, now.
I can sit down
without wondering
where Ben is
or what he is chewing.
I can hear children (not mine)
shouting, two fields over.
A car hums along the road.
The rocking chair creaks
as Joel sits down.
He starts to talk, slowly, measuredly.
There is no one to interrupt us.
There is light, still at the window.
There is time.
#55
elisabeth pike 