(A poem for Novembrance's October Writing Challenge)

The crickets are nearly inaudible now.
Their song is drowned out
by brisk, silent waves of evening breeze,
out-sung by the twinkling of the stars.

At last, alone,
free to let the gloaming magic
still my throbbing heart,
I shout a song of yesterday
to my childhood friend Orion.

My soul is stirred
to listen to a muted voice
to see the flesh of the unseen.
Pining for my own, beloved company,
I’ve fled from the comfort of love,
longing for solitude.

If only for a moment,
this tilted planet steadies,
restfully suspended on its axis
in the stillness of noise
and the dinning of silence.