Feeling silent: A poem 

Flying in feathers through the window 

Winter’s leathers. Forsaking a shadow 

Braving the weather. And no furrow 

Freeing tethers right to the marrow 

I am as silent and withdrawn as a flower 

This silence encases me in its tower 

I am captivated by this unripe shower 

Appetites for expression hold no power 

Envision in the mirror, no hysteria, but a fugue 

The butterfly sits, its quietude is huge 

And there’s no slipping of mind’s luge 

There is steel in the placid face’s rouge 

The battle is won for a refreshing sanity 

No banana peels, no confusions with vanity 

I am not even begrudging the tide of humanity 

And not worried that humaneness is a calamity