[image from google]
Some days,
when the news
everywhere
is bad,
when the endless
talking and
talking and talking
of the Talking Heads
makes me shake
my own
befuddled head
befuddled head
at the
utter futility
of all those Words
and conjectures,
all the
completely unproductive
histrionics,
I turn the tv off.
I do not turn on
the radio.
I live in
the sweet silence
of No Words,
and No Sound,
save those of the breeze
blowing by,
the creak of
the porch swing,
and the sweet twitter
of the small
neighbourhood birds,
the pecking
of that darned
demented woodpecker
on the tin garage roof,
punctuating
the tranquil sound
of
silence.
Routinely,
I turn the noise
completely off,
(or never
turn it on),
and retreat
to the
sweet peace
of the monastery
in my heart.
