The iridescent silence
resides in every hole
Every nook, every branch, every absence
aware that it should know

That the silence should seek the silence
and dampen living sound
Exert its out numbering presence
and flush disturbance out

This is how the woods exist
in the mercury morning night
It is the one time of the day
when sound loses the fight

Everything moving is alien
a probe disturbing time
Everything uneased by nothing
an irrationally influenced mime

Then "until" is the gospel of life
until strings ignite the sound
When those fallen silent resume their strife
and until their movements resound

But under the velveteen mirror
under the soft grip of ice
Air becomes solid and trees shadow white
in the mercury morning night