Regular Poem: All quiet

4 Dec

All quiet
and foggy
and trains
and a porch light
and your exhalation
puffing three feet high and then
melting into the fog–
the cloud that has grounded–
and you can see it for a long ways
yet zero miles.

The only sound
is a foggy sound
of far off whistles
that sound as though
they’re coming from the
sky.
But nothing’s in the
sky
not even the clouds.
The clouds are
on your back patio, in
your hammock, around
your porch light.

And the moon
is
nowhere.
But wherever
it is,
it is
supposed to be

full.

And you believe
it–
not because
some almanac claims it
but because
everything
is full.

Full of clouds.
And full of
quiet.

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4 Responses to “Regular Poem: All quiet”

  1. silverscreenings 5 December 2013 at 7:50 PM #

    This poem makes me think of Seattle. I can think of a night just like this when my husband and I were there.

    Thanks for bringing back some wonderful memories.

    • TheBestofAlexandra 12 December 2013 at 12:43 AM #

      You’re surely welcome! I look forward to accidentally stirring up other memories sometime!

  2. Sandra Fees 28 December 2013 at 4:20 PM #

    Love the poem. It speaks to me on so many levels. I really appreciate the paradoxical aspects you capture. Thanks.

    • TheBestofAlexandra 28 December 2013 at 4:39 PM #

      Thanks for the comment! Fog is one of my favorite subjects to write (and read) poetry about…probably because it is such a paradox–water that isn’t water, something you can feel but not touch, etc. :)

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