The drone of morning traffic. The blaring of horns from stopped cars on the Interstate. The adolescent voices that echo off the walls, and their sporadic screams and laughter. The noise from the outside crests like flood waters fed by torrential downpours.
It is during such onslaughts that I savor an interior silence. Give me these, then: The soft soil and hard rock of a Harriman trail. The serenade of returning songbirds to the backyard. The woosh of wind and the babble of rushing brooks.
In solitude can I cultivate this salving silence. Time alone by choice brings me in touch with the Presence that emanates through all reality. Freed from the noise, I can feel alive and be grateful.
sunlight
steaming through the storm door
while I write haikai
for Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Solitude (posted by Sumana)
and Real Toads’ Tuesday Platform (imagined by Sanaa)
Frank J. Tassone 
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