By Julia Kemp

It’s the crinkle of branches as you wander through a forest

Or the pitter patter of a squirrel across a wooden fence.

It’s the sound of a page turning in a book

And the still whistle of the wind through green spring trees. 


It’s the difference between something and nothing,

Not quite noise and not quite silence.

Your comforting friend that’s always around.

Sometimes quiet softens

And becomes so hushed that it’s hard to hear.

And when you lay backwards in your bed

Waiting for silence to overcome your body

And for quiet to disappear

thump thump thump

Your heart beats against your cold forehead 

And quiet welcomingly embraces your tired body

And quiet is there for you.