All is Quiet

By Alex Cox

To One:

The damp air impresses

and somewhere in the dark,

from the damp silence

All is quiet” screams the lark.

Indeed, all is quiet

this cold November morn.

for though we were together,

our connection now is shorn.

“All is quiet.”

The cry is repeated,

as if too mock this pain.

But no noises from the clearing;

from the ground where you are lain.

Once, the brook babbled.

Once, the sun shone.

But now the woods are reverent

For I am all alone.

“All is quiet.”

The watcher screams,

from his wooded perch.

“All is quiet, all is silent

All is without mirth.”

Yet to Another:

Off through the fog

the birdsong echoes smooth

from every rock, from every log

“All is quiet”, goes the song.

Truly, this scene is grand

this very silent wood

where the golden leaves do frolic

and the whole world seems good

“All is quiet”

The peace is carried along,

like a sweet proclamation

I wonder how some

could feel anything but elation.

Sure there are tragedies,

yes, there are sins.

But they all fade away

when the silence settles in.

“All is quiet”

The lark warbles,

from a far-off tree.

All is wrong with others,

but all is right with me.