Quiet Old Man

quiet, I love that thought day before the hurricane a much better line than waiting for the other shoe I write this poem in winter cool, quiet, Florida winter in a few more dry months the fire season will come I cannot warn the children there is nothing to warn I smell the smoke even now age senses ultimate defeat noise is a child's addiction youth is a hectic neurosis need filled with hungry pain searching for serene spring the spring, the seasons pass generations in a soft breeze mindless of sky fire, storm the Earth trembling in fear there is nothing to warn bawdy, fearless youth gain wisdom through loss grow to quieter places why is silence such a fear it is not the peace we fear it is the mute destruction after the storm has passed spring comes and old men gaze out their windows where the flowers bloom and children run and laugh I will only sit and watch young lovers passing by the park is alive with color no thought yet of a storm there is nothing to warn youth cannot learn from age laughing, optimistic, hopeful out to conquer our failure life will always move along whatever rubble remains tomorrow dreamers will use as a foundation for beginning no one sees my hiding place waiting here for quiet serenity coming like a cosmic firestorm of utter destruction and rest if I am spotted in my window a quiet old man they'll say no one sees within my mind the wind, the earth opening