There is not a silence in the old town. There is sign that is the color of forests long gone and the white glaze lettering. Here you will find a home. Here laying under blankets is the sound of cars in the distance, the lullaby of the highway,and the fields between here and there.
And if one were waiting fore a yellow school bus, standing in silence,
watching your breathe hang in the air, even in the warmest of morning.
You wonder how sound travels through the fog.