Yesterday night the silence was not silent
It was bent
On creating a cacophony
Trying to make itself be heard above the shrill intensity of the crickets
Infusing life in the shadows
Trying to perk up dormant and wilting hopes.
The polyglot silence
Multi tongued too
Sneering and smiling
And beguiling like a rabble rouser true.
Poking me with its rapier thrusts
Shadow wrestling with the demons of the night
Who often converge on my terrace with a wicked glee.
Communing with the mute bird hidden in the tree
Conniving at the coquettery of the crescent moon
Flirting with the clouds
Smiling serenely while I watch keenly
And listen to its sounds, ah my heart pounds.
A glow worm shines.
The rabble has been roused.
The silence falls silent and is heard no more.