The Sudden Quiet

The flickered lights, then nothing.

Just a click, a final, hollow hum.

The fridge, that steady, drowsy thing,

stopped its low breath. The night became numb.

I stood there, kettle cold, the water still.

No spill of yellow from the neighbor's pane.

Just dark. A heavy, sudden, unexpected chill

crept in, pushing through the window frame.

My phone, a little frantic blue,

lit up my face, made shadows jump and sway.

A world of silent objects, stark and new.

What did I lose, exactly, with the day's pull away?

Not just the light, but the soft,

unnoticed thrum.