Photo by Jordan Heinrichs on Unsplash
we assume silence to be nothing
though the deep basins ring
with their hidden acapella
and across the savannah
giraffes and elephants nod
to what we’ll never know.
when the cat next door was dying
mine would walk over
and sit beside all day.
the hollow of an empty church.
a hay barn late at night.
a quietude
George Perreault's recent work is in The Florida Review, West Trade Review, Angel Rust, and elsewhere.