Woman on a Journey

Sweet Solitude

standing by Lake Superior
Solitude is quiet

But not silent

There may be music

Or bird song

Or crashing waves

Or rain beating at the window

Like the tapping claws of a wolf

A thought that wouldn’t occur to me

If I wasn’t alone

petting my horse

Solitude has a sound that doesn’t require white noise to cover it up

Sometimes the white noise at work quits unexpectedly

There is sudden deadness to the air

Before your ears regain composure

And hear printers running

Conversations rising and falling

Desk chairs scraping and squeaking

And I think of solitude

With only a dog resting against my leg

A sigh . . . . . . . . .

That lets go of everything I’ve been holding

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