Poem about nothing

Am I boring you with all this Acadia writing? I apologize. But I’ve been unblocked and I can’t help myself. Listen. I was on the carriage road. It runs along a rockslide beneath Penobscot Mt., above Jordan Pond. I sat on one of the large rocks that border the road, to rest. Listen. That sound you hear is absolutely nothing.

Sonic Break

Beneath a russet cliff
this twisting gravel road
is balanced on a rock
slide. My episode
of trail-descending done,
I’ll break here as the sun

continues its decline.
There’s not a single sound:
no flow nor waterfall;
no squirrels stir the ground;
no birdsong nor jet plane;
no buzz, no breeze, no rain.

All glaciers have slipped north
and engineers spun home.
Summer is still to rise
while spring is yet to roam.
A crow beats overhead;
its wings would wake the dead.

Donald Davie and Li Po again, but this time someone else showed up in the background. I don’t rightly know his name, but he’s responsible for S1,L3 and S3,L1-2. He’s asking for a bit more leeway. I may have to let him have his way. He can be such a spoiled brat.