Tacit

(poem)

Recently, I have wanted to write about quiet. I hope this may give you a small moment of it.

	Tacit

Two men sit upon a log
and watch the distant tide go out: 
there is no one else about 
they are old friends
and all is well
and that is all.

There is no ocean breeze today 
to hide a ripple in the grass, 
and some small creature scurries past 
to reach its den
where all is well,
but that is all.

There is no word so gentle but 
would rise up like a quarterstaff
and crack the silent one in half  
to two again
and break the spell;
and it is all.

Silence pools around their feet. 
There is no urgent news today 
and this is how they choose to say, 
these quiet men,
that all is well.
And that is all.