the way it comes and goes,
surges, disappears,
a perfect metaphor
for shapes of time,
overused as moon
for that which
vanishes and reappears

quiet now (the wedding past)
too much so—
a house that buzzed
now hushed

silence loud 
but slimmer than a midnight crescent

silence also comes and goes
empties, spills, ebbs and fills,
evaporates and billows like a cloud
above a sugarbush still
boiling down sweet water
for its essence

Jim Culleny


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