I turn at times to say to her
Some witticism or bit of news
But she’s not there to hear my views;
There’s no one near enough to hear
What I think a cheese should cost
Or who should win a baseball game.
The dogs treat all my words the same:
Unless there’s food they’re unimpressed.
The silence now is loud with lack
Of sound as though the world must withhold
Comment until the spheres have rolled
Around their orbits forth and back
The heavens whirl in accustomed dance.
Jupiter’s moons do do-see-dos
Old as time and old as skies,
And I throw words in emptiness.
The Starry Sky is Set Free -- Leonid Tishkov