Abused By Illusions

My Silent Friend

The snow falls gently as steam rises noiselessly
from deep within the open hole in the frozen Montana prairie.
I peek out of a fur-lined parka hood quietly contemplating
a similar scene unfolding deep within the Soviet Union.
Below me stands the most hushed of giant guardians.
It must never speak for even a whisper would mean failure.
The snow drifts around us absorb even the sound of my heart
and that of the nurturing life support system of this silent giant.
Unspoken secrets we share in under the winking of a star filled sky.
The motionless giant stands a symbol of tranquility in our seclusion.
I have long since crept home seeking my own solemn station.
But this silent giant remains standing guard there to this day.
I sometimes, on a quiet night, still fondly remember our
quiet lonely nights standing ever so still on the frozen prairie.

© C.I. Abramson, 2004

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