Hush, hush.Hear the earth breathe.Watch the wildflowers bloom.Feel the calm of the silent dawn.Be still.

The sweetest melody that playson starry nights and wintry days,most soothing to my listening earsand calming to beleaguering fears,I call a symphony on air―the song of sweet, still silence rare.

When I say I love the silence, I'm not being entirely truthful. What I actually love are the abundant, delicate sounds that amplify when I'm silent. These curious creaks, mutters, and hums compel my imagination.

Sunsets are mother nature’s finest artwork; pride is nobody’s friend; readers make the most perceptive, compassionate listeners; silence is sweet; hugs and dark chocolate are emotional medicine; pineapple certainly does belong on anything ham belongs on; and motherhood will always be the most rewarding labor in existence.

Afraid of offending with an off word or the slightest insensitivity, I keep an unobtrusive and silent distance. Nevertheless, my pursed lips and offish stance are perceived as cold, managing to offend all.

Silence is my defense.The protector whom I trust.A sturdy shield,A loyal safe-keeper,A sentinel, impassable.Silence is my refuge.The shelter in which I hide.A peaceful home,A safe sanctuary,A fortress, impenetrable.