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Rose_croppedNo broom sweeps as cleanly as does the wind. With huffings and puffings it swirls every bit of leaf, debris and earthly dust neatly into corners and against curbings.

But better be quick and pick up the litter for without warning, it could well reverse itself and scatter every last bit of leaf and debris into as slovenly a mess as only the wind can make.

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Living just off a main avenue, with cars constantly tearing up and down the street with plentiful of neighborhood children, exuberant with laughter, shouts, cries, quarrels, passing the door, afoot, on bikes or skates; with planes zooming overhead, sonic booms rattling doors and windows; a neighbor who if he isn’t beating his drums in frenzied abandon is, as any hour of day or night, blasting his hi-fi with the kookiest jazz, there aren’t many moments of absolute silence.

So when one early Sunday morning I stepped out alone into the patio, and there was silence, a golden silence, it hit my ear with an acute awareness.

Even the air was still. Not a cloud moved in the deep, blue sky. All the world seemed asleep, and I held my breath for fear of arousing it.

I bent to turn the sprinkler key, for that is what I came out to do, but as the sound of the squishing water, I quickly turned it off. Let all be quiet. Let nothing destroy so rare a moment.

To accent the hush, form the tree over yonde4r came the rustling of leaves as a blue, feathered, grey breasted bird flitted from branch-to-branch. It trilled a long observation into space. Back came a short chirp. Then a chir…eee, chir…eee… as another joined the conversation.

A wonderful glorious symphony of musical silence.

Then, RAHoo…oohooo… The quiet was shattered, the magic broken. Down the street, a motor was laboring in a harsh whine. More ohoos, then VAHroom… roohm… brip.p.p.p… the engine sprang into noisy life.

Well, so be it. Let noise reign supreme. With a vengeance, I turned the sprinklers on full force, returned to the house and slammed the door tight shut.

Rose Ridnor