Before the Silence Breaks

The hush before the kettle sings,the air, a thread pulled taut with dread.Not storm nor fire, but some mute thingthat hums behind the world instead.

The sky forgets its shade of blue,and leans a little closer down,like some great god that had cracked in twoand spilled its grief upon the town.

Leaves press their ears to the trembling trees,listening for the ghost of war.The wind, once fluent, now just wheezeslike breath behind a closing door.

No monster roars, no angel weeps,yet something stirs beneath the floor.Not death itself, but how it creeps,A hush, a hush, and then no more.