After the thick fog lifts Having muffled then muted all of the nights sounds and the dawns quiet sun rises dusting golden light on moistened leaf and petal golden rays emanate through exaggerated dew drops silent morning not quite broken the pea soup chased fauna away and the hushed cold pre-dawn keeps all a slumber not a sound to be heard not a bird in flight or a single dampened leaf trod on silent forest floor as golden rays strike through dew laden branches casting patterns of dappled golden sparkling light all around..... but to be heard or found.... not one single sound...
J.C. honey-tiger 06/05/2019.
This was originally written in response to a poetic question about "silence" quietness.