Sunday drizzle

In the stillness
           I hear the drizzle
falling through
           the universe
The birdsong
           is subdued
I see leaves
           gently waving
in the light breeze
           Our star has yet
to appear through
           the grey clouds

A train is running
           in the distance
and I think
           of Emily Dickinson
and the silences
           of Amherst to which
she was so attuned
           We share
the same cosmos
           a common heritage

What is time
           in the grand scheme
of things ?

What is any of it worth
           without love ?