Silent explosions of creation appear beyond the window
as I listen to, or am bombarded by, the eternal ringing in my ears

Silence is an impossible dream

Watching the leaves in spring stretch and yawn
Watching the rose petals romance the world
Watching the beautiful deaths colour the postcards
Watching the snowflakes’ individualities show us how

Silent explosions of creation appear beyond the window
and here I sit crunching ginger biscuits

Silence is an impossible dream