My home is unusually quiet, without even the white noise
of another soul upstairs.
The tireless connections that we digitally maintain, precious
in a way real contact no longer is, are shut off.
Suddenly my world is very small.
Me. My thoughts. My breath.
I am still.
This silence is water to my parched mind, and I dive
eagerly in to the depths.
Though I know it will shatter—as the wheel must continue to spin—for the moment
I am infinite within myself.
Peace, like a dog with his head out the window, envelops me.
All is right. All is calm. All is, simply, good.