The stillness is absolute - not a sound.
Not a whisper in the trees although I see them sway  in their drunken yet graceful dance.
In the distance blue skies invaded, scores of pairs of wings flapping madly,
Alert to a danger only they can hear.
Zigzag of black bodies, united in their plight.

In my meandering  along the riverbank I see the water rise and fall , each little crest tipped with gold , fleeting dalliance with the sun, now low in the sky, ready to give way to her moonlight sister.

As day surrenders to night I am reminded of the silent films - a feast for one sense only.
Ears rendered useless, hungry eyes soaking up every small detail.
In those moments of stillness a near perfect calm engulfs me.

Only to hover like smoke - opaque for seconds then gone.
Fleeting in our meeting - brief pirouette of joy.
Before my return to melancholia.
I know I shall return to stillness.
It’s just a breath away.