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everything just gets sweeter as I sit under
the maple after working all day in the garden
and listen to the music of silence disguised
as birdsong and breeze in the overstory
and watch the light fade slowly to darkness
until, before I know it, it’s night already
and the stars are out like little animal eyes
and then suddenly I’m remembering, without
even trying, the face of a long-lost friend
I thought I had forgotten and hear his voice, too,
and know that I’m lost at 8:43 pm on June 13th
because there is a maestro in the darkness
descending invisibly with her baton that’s also
an arrow that flies with perfect aim at my heart
which it pierces and kills me, kills me,
despite the fact that I go on living somehow
hearing music, and then humming it as well
because it has no words only a proviso issued
from the clouds that I forget,
because I think falsely that I’m seated in eternity,
although I know there’s another evening
to follow with even sharper arrows in its quiver
of dusk that awaits me as its target beneath
this maple on such an evening.
~~~~
Copyright 2025 Chard deNiord

Chard deNiord’s many collections of poetry include In My Unknowing (University of Pittsburgh Press 2020). He lives in Westminster West, Vermont with his wife, Liz.
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A quietly gorgeous poem.
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Chard’s eloquence is inimitable and as sure as the morning star. Such assuring pleasure to take in in this world gone awry.
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Yes, Chard is a quiet mystic.
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I’ve printed this poem out for keeping/rereading. Thank you, Chard deNiord, thank you!
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A marvelous way to begin my day, but/and I must admit that this phrase stopped me in my tracks: “because I think falsely that I’m seated in eternity” … I am just wowed by the voice here, and, as always, grateful to the writer and to Vox Populi for this dazzling piece.
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Thanks, Annie!
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Deep deep bow, chard..how all that lives also kills and yet your words bring the heart to life. thank you. thank you for inviting me into such a silence. yes, your silence. yes, your evening. and now…mine.
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What a gorgeous reflection on this one evening – loved the ‘little animal eyes’ of the stars which I will look for next time.
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It’s a great image, isn’t it?
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Great metaphor!
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A heart-wrenching, beautiful lyric, Chard!
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Yes. Yet my garden takes care of itself now with the help of the pollinators and the gardeners who try but are miffed there is no grass. The natives thrive and provide for the insects and birds, but I long for the energy to once more spend a day with the sweet smelling dirt. ( ok. I need to get up and get off my pity pot)
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As do we all…
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Pity pot? You? Keep on sharing your music with the birds.
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Chard says much in just one sentence; but what a sentence.
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Beautiful indeed!
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What a beautiful meditation this is!
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The sentence unwinds gracefully down the page, much the way the mind works, I think.
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