Listening At Sunset
In a park, I listen at sunset.
I listen to the whooshing of cars, on the highway over there, behind that stand of trees.
I listen to the insects, waking as dusk descends, starting their nocturnal conversations.
I am still.
Instead of others’ voices, especially the sound of loved ones’ demands and needs,
Instead of my voice, my mind, cluttered in reliving the day, as the…
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