how deep my desire,
how lov’ed the silence:
the waking of birds when
the morning is quiet;

the brush of the fountain;
how playful the breeze!
that slips through the rushes,
the reeds and the trees;

the laugh of the candle,
the whisper of fire,
the merry that lingers
on family awhile;

the hush of the darkness,
profoundly at ease.
but i have tinnitus,

and my silence:
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

2024