Quiet

I can hear the birds.

From my apartment window, surrounded by buildings with sirens and engines and yelling that normally echo up the alleyways, bouncing off of every window and wall, I can hear the birds.

They sing, squawk, chatter all day long, calling to each other across the tin roofs, as if overwhelmed with the excitement of being able to hear each other so clearly.

The dogs that normally bark and howl at each other with every slam of a gate and rev of an engine, now make almost quizzical yowls in response to the quiet with the occasional, uneasy yelp, checking that they are not alone.

The trees by the lake seem to rustle and shake with every gust of wind, widely stretching their branches and dusting crisp leaves on the single passerby, flourishing in their ability to create sound in the silence.

You see, the world around me has become so quiet, so silent, that even the birds, the dogs and the trees have noticed.

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