Sound and Silence

There’s a sound to silence. There is. You can hear it if you listen. And of course, there’s a sound to noise.
There’s the sound of skates on ice that can’t be made any other way.
The sound of silk or satin dropping to the floor can’t be either.
The sound of a kitten in your bed.
The sound of heavy breathing in bed.
The sound of a dog far off in the night, a train, a gust of wind, a loud crack. A sea gull overhead. A tennis stroke.
The sound of a foghorn at sea in the night. A bat on a ball. A puck on a stick. The rattle of dice. The klink of ice. The klank of coins. Coins falling. Water pouring. Ice cracking. A gun shot. A shot gun. A whisper in the dark. A goose in a park. A tongue in your ear. A kick in the rear. The terrible sound of anger. A punch. A crash. Wind in the trees. A car horn late at night on the next street. A waterfall. A drunk falling down the stairs. Geese flying south. A burp in church. A groan of pleasure. The sound of spit hair in the dark. The sound of pain. A punch. A kick in the ass or the smack of a kiss. Just think of all you’d miss …
If you couldn’t listen, you wouldn’t hear … a burp, a swallow, a popped cork and corn popping. People praying. Gum snapping. Bubbles bursting. Water boiling. Steak frying. Brakes screeching. Rockets bursting. Crackers cracking.
The sound of your mother’s voice, a long time ago … “Get your little fanny outta that bed and get ready for school! I don’t care if it snows ten feet out there. You’re still going!”
A sound you don’t hear. The sound of typing or the rare whisper of a hand, writing on paper.
Aren’t you glad you still got ears?

—Dick Greene
Warren Avenue