ROARING QUIET

Pressing an ear to the ubiquitous earth
The old man of the upland
Lies dead and waiting
For slowly approaching feet.

Silence------meanwhile
And the lull keeps bulging at the seams.

Never coming storm
When will the snows avenge themselves?
O let a fear tickle the bones
Of the blind fiend of the light.

Will the ancient life rise again
To choke the folly of her
Grimacing sages
In their mouths?

At other times and in other places, too
Sphynx of a death-dealing faith
Was ever so voluble of
False love and yellow peace.

It seems like provoking fate
The ever patient ears wait
Only the wind passes
Through and through.

And a heavy silence reigns
In the stilly, but disquiet
Primaeval sands.