A pair of goldfinches in the tall bull
thistle— only the female eats in silence.
Some people, entering a room, automatically turn on
the radio, the tv: almost as if afraid of silence.
I wish I had a porch or balcony where I could sit
until the noise of traffic dials down to silence.
Thrice now we’ve sighted a young night heron— clatter
of the dustbin lid behind the fence, then silence.
My friend texts me about the moon on his drive home:
I imagine the ribbon of coast, water liquid as silence.
Too many times like passing ships, at both ends of missed
opportunities. Why can’t we touch at the center, in silence?
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
Poet Luisa A. Igloria (Poetry Foundation web page, author webpage ) is the winner of the 2015 Resurgence Prize (UK), the world’s first major award for ecopoetry, selected by former UK poet laureate Sir Andrew Motion, Alice Oswald, and Jo Shapcott. She is the author of What is Left of Wings, I Ask (2018 Center for the Book Arts Letterpress Chapbook Prize, selected by Natasha Trethewey); Bright as Mirrors Left in the Grass (Kudzu House Press eChapbook selection for Spring 2015), Ode to the Heart Smaller than a Pencil Eraser (Utah State University Press, 2014 May Swenson Prize), Night Willow (Phoenicia Publishing, 2014), The Saints of Streets (University of Santo Tomas Publishing House, 2013), Juan Luna’s Revolver (2009 Ernest Sandeen Prize, University of Notre Dame Press), and nine other books. She is a member of the core faculty of the MFA Creative Writing Program at Old Dominion University which she directed from 2009-2015. In 2018, she was the inaugural Glasgow Distinguished Writer in Residence at Washington and Lee University. When she isn’t writing, reading, or teaching, she cooks with her family, knits, hand-binds books, and listens to tango music.