It was five o’clock on a late January morning. Outside it was bitter cold. There was ice in the treetops, on the cars, on the deck, the walkway and the steps. There were icicles hanging from the gutters on the house and the bird feeders in the yard. It was dead still outside. There was no sound of traffic on the main road a mile away. No wail of sirens. No cars going up and down the street, subwoofers thumping. No garbage trucks noisily making their pre-dawn collections. Not even the lonesome sound from the horns of the freight trains passing through town. And best of all, no dogs barking next door.  

The man lay still in bed listening to the quiet. For almost an hour he did not move. The sound was his favorite in the world. He listened to it intently. The silence. The beautiful silence. The silence reflected peace and tranquility. The silence encouraged introspection. The silence was spiritual.

The only activity outside was the birds. The man had filled the seed and suet feeders the day before. The flocks came in for the food that the cold ground and vegetation could not provide. He could not hear them, but he knew they were there. They too were quiet. It was as if the entire world was cold, calm and hushed.

The beauty and the still of the winter storm would be gone in a day or so, possibly by that afternoon. Though the temperatures would remain hovering at or below freezing, the sun would come out. The ground would warm and the ice would melt. The cars would begin moving up and down the street, in and out of the neighborhood. The traffic on the main road a mile away would return, along with the sirens and subwoofers. The trains would moan up and down the tracks, the trash collectors would resume their morning rounds, the neighbors would venture outside with power equipment and the dogs next door would return to their incessant barking. Life would return to normal, whatever that might be.

But for now it was still and soundless. The silence was majestic. The silence was fleeting. And it was beautiful. The beautiful silence.