SILENCES

Night  has scrubbed clean

The street of light

And sound.

Gone, the sound of church bells,

The whoosh of passing cars,

The echoes of spectators

Watching children playing soccer,

Sprinklers spritzing on, then off,

The roar of lawn-mowers--

All gone under the persistent,

Downward pressure of dark matter.

Air--that combination of oxygen

And nitrogen--

Clear in the daylight,

Becomes impenetrable.

See nothing/

Hear everything--

The night is made for listening,

The receipt of words,

The interpretation of silences.

Life’s alternating current--

Day, with the eyes open,

Absorbing,

Translating,

And night, when sight gives way

To sound,

Gives way to touch,

Gives way to smells

Of lotions, perfumes,

These hours--

Sacred, extraordinary, time--

For extrications, contractions,

Retractions and consents,

Rebirth

Of skin and spirit,

Blood and belief--

All in this weightlessness

Of night's caress.