Black Ice Day
Sometimes words thin, then spread out.
There just isn't very much to talk about
that hasn't already been talked about.
What lies in the soul of silence becomes paramount.
Do you hear hummingbirds whirling about
or blue buzzards of regret and self-doubt?
Do you hear silverware crashing the halls
or bells of a country church decorating homespun walls.
Do the quiet tones turn to sweet memories
or a platoon of goblins chasing hobbled dreams.
Silence can be a hand holding, dear friend
or stompers wishing for your bitterest end.
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