hubert was a quiet man
in love with quiet things
the cricket-hum
of summertime
the soft rain every spring
the differing dance of snowflakes
(no two falling
looked the same)
the way a rushing river seemed
to murmur out his name
the faint
audible magic
of a well meant
whispered wish
the warm under-
water greeting
of a fish
meeting a fish
and when
confronted with
rough frequencies
his fragile ears
just couldn't take
he'd sidestep the whirring world
with a quick trip to the lake
atop a tiny private island
mountain-hid from public view
he rejoiced in
the nearly
silent sound
of his heart
as it grew