jillypoet: mom trying to write

Each day I wish I had invented waterproof sticky notes (for shower inspiration) or pen-friendly diapers to get down all my quirky thoughts that I am sure are relevant and publishable. And so God (actually another writer-mommy) sent me The Blog.

Monday, March 03, 2008

Who's There?

In winter you do not hear voices.
You can not hear anyone
as clearly
as crisp
as in the brilliant dark of summer,
when stranger's conversations amble
past your front yard,
saunter through any open bedroom window.
Snow and ice muffle sound.
Prayers blow on wind gusts.
Wishes for warm beds, dry gloves, drift
up to your shuttered sills, ride on.
In winter you do not hear voices
but in the cool white silence
you may sense soft murmurs,
strangled sighs,
Then you know
you are in the presence of angels.


Blogger paisley said...

wow.. that was really cool i was so enjoying the realization that voices do not carry in the winter.. and then you moved on and closed with an absolutely bomb line!!!! i really enjoyed this....

8:50 PM  
Blogger Jo said...

Lovely work, Jilly, that ending really clinched it

12:42 AM  
Blogger PDW said...

i don't have outgoing email this week so i'm bastardizing the blog world to do my bidding. miss you already, and i love this explanation of the differences between the abilities of summer and winter to carry sound.

6:22 PM  
Blogger Billy said...

"strangers conversations amble past your front yard ..." I loved that part. Nice rhythm throughout which reinforces the silence. Each line drifts easily to the other. Very nice.

2:46 PM  
Blogger Leigh Lear said...

beautiful, and so true, especially when you feel like it's been winter forever.

10:41 PM  
Blogger Mariacristina said...

I've never thought about sound this way until I read your poem. A nature poem ends up becoming a sounding out of otherworldly love. Very nice!

8:28 PM  

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