Silence

I lie awake at night
unaccustomed to the silence
of automobiles and the rush
of crowds.  I try to force sleep,
and he comes to me.
The stars are his eyes,
the roar of the waterfall is his blood
rushing through his veins.
He makes love.  His voice
is the singing crickets.
And finally, in the early morning,
when the sun awakes the gray sky
and the dew washes my face,
he leaves me by the hoot of the owl.
A soft layer of fog covers my body,
and I sleep exhausted
from the silence of his love.