In the garden at twilight, the fragrance
of lavender mingles with the night air, clouds
deepening to purple.
 
My husband, clipping lilacs, straightens
from his task, alert, as if he hears a distant sound.
Profound hearing loss has isolated him
 
within seasons of silence. He has always loved 
spring, the lengthening days, the first crocuses
and, most of all, bird song.
 
Now I sense he is aware of something beyond
the usual wall of silence. I hear the birds, he says.
New hearing devices, advanced technology,
 
have sprung him into spring and for the first time
in over ten years he listens to birds
settling into the night: avian vespers.


© by Lois Parker Edstrom.
Used with the author’s permission.