Morning
Father’s Day cards sit silently
on the mantle, the dog sleeps
at my side, not a noise from
outside the window, inside,
that musical note of quiet
insists itself to my ears. I heal.
3 thoughts on "Morning"
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What an astonishing poem! Those last two words are a true surprise.
That note insisting itself is a pearl. The whole poem is.
I love “the musical note of quiet.”