Late at night, a winter’s eve,

Someone might see, but not conceive.

The amity found in empty dark;

One’s fascination leaves no mark.

Unconquered by crickets, themselves asleep,

Silence rules its kingdom, no single peep.

Disturbs the beauteous peace.


Descriptions


Explosions of color are there to be found

Listen, you’ll hear them, pervasive in sound.

Things that make noise exist all around.

Look above, in the sky, or below, in the ground.

You may see a bird, but beneath it you’ll hear

The flap of its wings; and in front will appear

The shape of a tree, so serenely austere.

The noise is a racket which pierces your ear.

Attention is needed to notice such things.

Some quiet, some loud, but all of them bring

A picture – the artist is you, what you’re thinking,

Describes a general shape (just an inkling).

Such pictures form words, which are dazzling still,

Entrancing their listeners, spoken loud or quite shrill.

The painter describes his strange art, until

The sound dies away, and his thoughts become nil.