Deep Earplugs

A capsule-like remedy wedges distance

Between edges and existence.

White noise turns black on these nights,

Cold, with warmth sliding into place,

Thorns budding, volcanoes melting into the sea.

You can hear the coals, tired beneath the flames,

And the dampened voices become tuneful.

The snow tames the briers, and the pond

Sleeps in the stillness of the meadow.

The white upon the evergreen falls with

A silent sigh of a distant storm.

The crystal cups, hidden from the moon,

Gather before the firelight

To gleam in their emptiness and never die.