My Town

 

In my town, silence

deepens as the night

slows to late.

From my hill, I observe

streets and houses 

settling down to bed.

An occasional dog.

A passing night bird.

One or two homing cars.

Then it belongs

to me and poetry

alone. Mine.

A second Quadrille about silence (inspired by dVerse) in response to a request from one of the others who answered the prompt, who wrote of his town and wondered what others might say of theirs in 44 words. (I'm not sharing this with the dVerse group as a whole, as we were only asked for one Quadrille to address the prompt, and mine is the poem I posted here just before this one. But it's fine of course if they happen across it.)