A silence
unnatural
spills soaks up the sound
of soughing trees.
Where did the wind go with its ranting
threads of voice wolf-cried ululations
roaring chimneys keyhole-whistles?
Raced over the hill and far away
deafening-quiet
until a distant dog bells
echoing the long goodbye.
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This is haunting like the tolling of a distant bell…almost as if you miss the wind.
I thought I’d gone deaf. Only sound was the blood in my ears till a dog barked somewhere. Glad it’s stopped though!
I think Ingrid is right, there is a haunting, echoing quality to the poem. But I know you’re glad the wind has gone!
Now that it’s stopped, I’m aware of just what a din it made. The owls seem pleased that the competition has gone too!
Oh–nice that you can hear the owls now.
You capture the “unnatural” quality of the silence wonderfully, the absence of sound as disquieting as its presence.
Thank you! The contrast was eerie. The wind fills all the space available.
I do wonder where the wind goes. It takes up so much space. (K)
Does it just keep on blowing somewhere? And what is doing the blowing?
Perhaps we should ask the Oracle.
Good idea. If anyone knows, it’ll be her.