Hugo Spencer
The moon may not be born of silence and it may be loud again.
The snow on top of the mountain
isn’t that silent.
My little doggy Tilly and I can hear it:
tippity tap, tippity tap.
In the evening, Tilly and I sometimes sit on the sofa
and we hear sounds outside:
May be the courtyard is not that silent.
Scrapyards aren’t always that silent
big stray doggies might be snoring: hrrrrrr hrrrrrr!!!
The best hiding spots
aren’t always so quiet:
at the bottom of the garden,
behind sofas,
and the cupboard under the stairs.
Under the sea in caves – it is sometimes silent.
In the open sea – it is not always so quiet.
Tilly and I never like total, total silence.
But a little silence is nice.
Like little footsteps of birds pattering in the snow:
tip, tap, tip, tap.
When it is sunny, I want some rain
and sometimes rain comes.
My ears and Tilly’s ears see the silence:
silence makes a circular shape when it is cold,
and a square shape when it is warm;
and all shapes at once when it is very happy.
Silence smells like lavender.
And sometimes, smells like sage.
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Forty-Three e-Newsletter • Number 503 • March 2021
Oxford Friends Meeting
43 St Giles, Oxford OX1 3LW
newsletter@oxfordquakers.org