9.29

9; Cybertorture I
I round a narrow footpath
onto a gravel road…
there the trees have made a tunnel
and I pass beneath the branches.
A windy day,
with storms on my horizon…
leaves cover the ground,
and only few hang on.
It’s late in my fall
I can sense the winter coming…
I feel the cold that’s on its way,
and shudder.
I see the thrashing branches,
and the rolling leaves beneath my feet…
staring blankly, solemn, and aside my thoughts I think:
that silence isn’t always silent.

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