by Daron Larson
Two pairs of unhurried eyes
gaze out quietly from the bench,
alert for a bus.
The woman is young,
the boy not quite old enough
for school, yet old enough to learn,
attending to the world, open,
not insisting on attention from it.
Anyone would call him well behaved.
I wonder what could be more important to her
than the silence surrounding them,
humming houses, chirping trees,
their own breathing.
Who knows what comforts other people's earbuds
are singing to them? Whispering?
Who knows where and what
others are coming from this morning,
or where they are headed?
Maybe isolation is exactly what they need right now.
Maybe they want something more.
All these questions marks floating above silent faces,
begging to be answered.