U-Bahn Observations

I.
It’s not as if the silence frightens me
with its quiet pregnancies,
with its memories of sun-stained mornings,
its heavy regrets, the snow
No, it’s not as if the silence frightens me

II.
Sometimes when the air is still
I remember the wind,
the crinkle of it between leaves,
the high whisper of it in my ears.
Then the white door slams shut,
all on its own

III.
I envy the bees that dive and float,
hovering still and now darting away
It’s like they’ve managed to solve
how to hold in their tiny minds both
purpose and contentment
without contradiction