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.