Solitude hides in darkened rooms,‬

‭ In foxfire on a summer night,‬

‭ In the cries of a Great Horned Owl in flight,‬

‭ Close by ded men laid in tombs,‬

‭ Exuding a strength that never assumes‬

‭ The empty power to stir or excite,‬

‭ Yet slowly fathers quiet delight‬

‭ As gently as a Spring bud blooms.‬

‭ Sweet solitude. No man can own your soul,‬

‭ Yet often he can go with peace‬

‭ Letting silence keep him company‬

‭ As he waits alone… alone‬

‭ Until you graciously bestow‬

‭ The gift of dreamless sleep.‬

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‬‭ Michael J Garber‬

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