Osage Hills

Osage Hills

Silence so often
gets compared
to death:
            as a corpse;
            deathly still.

But when we stopped on the trail
before a sign of information:
            COMMON MAMMALS OF OKLAHOMA
the breeze stopped.
All we heard was the static of last year’s leaves,
their intermittent death rattle,
their last song before spring ushers them along to the next place.
You took my hand.
I held my breath.
The silence
            was alive