walking to the mailbox
I am stalked by mist
The lights blink through
the neighbours trees:
down town below.
It’s so black between the lamps,
I expect deep quiet,
beneath the rustle of new leaves,
but the highway hums in the distance.
Trucks travel with an insistent drone
that climbs the hill to my house,
and silence suffers
in the hustle of their incessant transitions.