Listening for sounds of past months. The chirping of birds, animals, even the ever present vermin that haunt us by day and night.
I hear nothing. Only the rustling of fallen leaves, blown by days chilly winds.
The sky grows darker and dreay as time passes, taking the little light of the November day.
Colder. Quiet. Peaceful.
No wind to move the leaves, no passing cars, no obnoxious noises.
Just the coming of night to bring hope for the days ahead.
