to be had

sleeping and not sleeping are both different when had at the end of county roads. this kind of quiet, framed by birdsong, softened tin roof tapping, allowing insects to sing out, is the best damn quiet necessary. when I was a younger person I slept with my window open most of a year round I could manage, letting in the kind of quiet that happens in the absence of people. the silence and sound of all of the living life that goes on while we intake to industry and sirens. I miss this.