Even Stillness Poem by Gary Winkel

Even stillness is imagined today.
The tree is constantly shaken,
but I'm holding on to eating
apples and a occasional hello.
I suppose somebody's losing
a lover, a possession, a religion,
somewhere right now.
There is no consolation
in empty windsor chairs.

Little dreams
are taking the place
of saving grace.
Wisdom is silence
spread like ashes
from a 3rd floor window.
An angel plays
piano keys moving
me to cello tears.