QUIET

There’s a kind of quiet

unlike the quiet of a city. 

Not known by all, and

not even remembered by most 

who knew it, until they return to it again.

A city can be quiet,

in its way, at night.

Dogs asleep. Cars parked, and 

crickets sing louder than 

the hum of electricity.

Walking barefoot is quiet.

Toes buried in cool spring clover on a hill

where crickets sing all day, and

the crickets here aren’t different, 

but the quiet is.