SShhhhh....

....quietness
sifts
downwards
infiltrates
the soft
bumpy
turf
of the
greenest
Autumn
mountain
like
four
or five
chums
playing
football
without
speech
or shout
in the
afternoon
of
gentle
rain,

buzz-cut
friends
not
speaking
once
yet
exulting
constantly
as
golden
catches
and
tosses
play
out
their
simple
exalted
missions
as
even
the
usual
eager
grasp
and
plump
thump
of
palms
and
gleeful
fingers
stretched
to
capture
pigskin
in
free
fall
from
the blue
swirl
of
space
is
muted
almost
holy
like
a
mountain
tall
broad
and
smoky
inside
dusk’s
first
curling
words.