So quiet, the downy woodpecker tapping a dead branch sounds as loud as a pile driver. High overhead, the half moon like a big right ear.

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  1. How easy to lose oneself to silence in this
    sifting of white upon white that’s fallen
    all night long. The wind soughs,

    and all the branches nod their white-
    capped heads. The neighbor swings open
    his gate to take the dog for a walk–

    Away now, at the end the street, the yellow
    of his parka and the flash of golden fur
    make an orb of jaunty noise against the snow.

    High overhead, the half moon bends its big right ear.

    Luisa A. Igloria
    ~ 12 26 2010

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