Shh…

February 22 2013All is quiet now, except for the breath of the fire. The crest, the hills beyond, even the sky, have been relieved of color and sit dormant in the landscape not a whisper issuing from their pale grays.The vacuum cleaner had its say earlier, along with the washer and dryer; yet even they were briefly silenced by a blown fuse. The chop, chop, chop of stainless steel blades which, for half an hour, argued with cauliflower, broccoli, shallots and an apple, now lay mute in the drawer, the ingredients simmered and lullabied into soup.Conversation and laughter shared with friends to and from the Friday market most likely still echo somewhere in the valley, along with the vendors urgings, the slick swish of ice beneath the glistening fish, the gasp of pastries as they were lowered into their box. The air itself, still all day, yet far from silent, spoke to us in rare frigid terms, icy tongues licking at lungs, the sun useless in its bed of blue.Even Joel has stopped wheezing for a while, his bronchial cough napping quietly along with him on the couch. I read the manual to my new digital piano hearing notes yet to be played, the strains of yesterday’s refrain perhaps harmonizing with today’s laughter. If I’m lucky their echo will visit me later when, as it always does, silence slips away as soundlessly as it arrived.