Sonnet
The silence of the evening swells to sound,
As though in blindness I could see more clear,
And far-off traveling cars so close hum 'round
I halfway think that Far is very near.
There is a fragile something forming by,
A shadow of some substance that I know.
I sense a step, a movement soft and slow,
And then an almost breath or pausing sigh,
Till calm again regains its awful hold,
Replacing sound with nothing I can hear.
Then through the bushes---You! outleaping bold!
And Dark and Dim and Deafness disappear!
Sight-blindly, now, I grab you in my arms!
Loud-quietly I kiss your happy charms!
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