Hushed

Style 1:

Autumn will soon take its reign,

The shift rooted within my bones. 

The wind whispers its sweet name,

Filled with craving, it aptly moans.

Cool air caresses my face,

Sneaking through the window.

Filling every inch of space,

It rests beside my pillow.

Crickets' chirping fills the air,

Their chorus ever-ceaseless.

To the world they boldly share,

Their deepest darkest secrets. 

Above, the sky softly weeps,

Her tears descend with poise.

Falling on the Sycamore leaves,

They produce a sultry noise. 

It's early morn', the world's asleep,

Dark has yet to turn to light.

Soon the sun will start to creep,

To this moment I hold tight.

Here exists neither future nor past,

No yesterday or 'morrow.

A place to attain some peace at last,

No anxiety or sorrow.

              

-b.m.

Style 2:

It's the end of summer. There's a chill in the air as the weather starts to shift. The window is wide open, allowing a cool breeze to dance around the room. It's early morning, before the sun wakes and stretches her light across the earth. Rain lightly taps on the rooftop and bounces off the leaves of the trees standing outside. The world feels soft, hushed, as though time itself has paused for a moment to savor the peace of it. Sleep could not keep me from the sensation. The aroma of serenity. Nothing else exists outside of this space, for the moment. There is no past, no future. Only present. All of the noise in my mind is quieted so that the only noise to grace my ears are the chirping crickets and soothing raindrops. 

Drip. 

Chirp.

Drop.

Chirp.

 My eyelids begin to fall. Eased into rest, I allow myself to let go. 

Let go. 

Let go. 

-b.m.