QUIET
There’s a kind of quiet
unlike the quiet of a city.
Not known by all, and
not even remembered by most
who knew it, until they return to it again.
A city can be quiet,
in its way, at night.
Dogs asleep. Cars parked, and
crickets sing louder than
the hum of electricity.
Walking barefoot is quiet.
Toes buried in cool spring clover on a hill
where crickets sing all day, and
the crickets here aren’t different,
but the quiet is.