I steal the silence.

The air is crisp tonight, and my chest hums with a certain happiness,

a broken quiet.

My lungs are feathers

molting noiselessly

between breaths;

in, out.

Slowly, I bury my toes into the soil and I feel them

thrum below the earth.

The roots of the trees

spread signals across my feet;

primitive neurons clamber up my ankles.

The street lamp pulses through

its vacuum of voices,

and I swallow it up, absorb it in my pores.

 

I close my eyes

and listen.

 

Written by Hannah Butcher
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