by Don Thompson
No wind. The trees only mime it.
Nothing disturbs the underbrush.
So quiet you can hear
pages turning in the book
of silence—sacred text
for refugees from uproar.
You’d think the birds have taken vows.
Sparrows feed under a maple this morning
with heads down like novices
in a strict refectory.
Even crows keep their own counsel.
Not one caw.
Last night by flashlight I saw a coyote
crossing a fallow field
in half a hurry.
When he looked at me, his eyes dazzled.
Fire opal silences shattering.
About the photographer – Eric Sorensen is a medical student and artist who loves painting, drawing, and photography. After college he studied painting at the San Francisco Art Institute.