Quiet

[rejectomorph]

Those early clouds failed before Orion cleared the eastern trees, and thus I saw him risen clear and bright. As it happened, the first time I looked at him, a meteor streaked across his prone form from head to toe. I watched a moment more, but my neck soon grew stiff and sore and I decided to give it up. He's moved higher since then and now is at much to high an angle for me to risk looking at at him at all. I'm glad to have seen the one meteor though.

Wind stirred very little most of the night, and the crack of a dry leaf underfoot as I went out to fetch the morning paper seemed an almost violent intrusion on the quiet. Thereafter I stepped more carefully.




Sunday Verse

Alone

by Yvor Winters


I, one who never speaks,
Listened days in summer trees,
Each day a rustling leaf.
Then, in time, my unbelief
Grew like my running:
My own eyes did not exist!
When I struck I never missed!
Noon, felt and far away,
My brain is a thousand bees.