Furies ain’t got nothin,’
All around me, sound invades.
Loud and raucous, this isn’t my day.
Lolly-gagging at the end of the line,
I‘m hoping to miss the inevitable gathering of the pack.
Now I must temporarily depart from my writing.
Getting the gathered children to quieten for only a moment, please?
Silence is missed most dearly at this point.
Now I miss it, though it was a good companion this morning.
One glance out the window takes me back to this time last week
When the snow, gently falling, was the only sound I could hear.
Written for last Friday’s FreeWriteFriday and partially because my house is a temporary madhouse, despite all our best efforts.
“We started dying before the snow, and like the snow, we continued to fall.” — Louise Erdrich, Tracks