At night I hear him
ascend in weighted
steps that grow
heavier and heavier
in his climb
treading in those
big black boots
hauling that great
coat of his
on those slumped
shoulders
with everything
else in his world
and there’s a moment,
when he stands
before his door,
a minute, to sigh
or think, to quietly
breathe, and that
silence, drawn, full,
is the loudest
thing I’ve ever heard.
Nesbit and Gibley 
I read this while listening to the man who lives above me. I can’t tell if he’s dancing a jig or doing an aerobic workout or what. š His steps are heavy but they are many.
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He sounds a lot more active than mine! Thanks for reading =)
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