The gentle rush of rain
breaks the silence,
soon joined by the cat lapping —
unseen.
Then both are gone;
I watch the miles thick cloud
parading overhead,
dark autumn leviathans
shunting in from the west. Yes,
sometimes the silence gets to me,
it isn’t what I crave.
A silent mind is creative, some say,
then how is darkness a friend?

Copyright Francis Barker 2020 — a creator fond of poetry