Silence Some scientist has said, has said he can prove that cats wait anxious hours for the disturbance we call earthquake. Is it possible then on that Good Friday cats, birds, dogs, frogs knew something was to happen and waited for the happening? Is it not possible one hot afternoon near Jerusalem, near such an anguished hilltop, frogs sang from some shadowed shade? Is it not possible that there from noon 'til three Caesar's horses deployed to Asia, Palm Sunday's donkey and colt moved restlessly as the sun passed the midday mark? Nervous jerking, quivers, twitchings as they felt in earth herself something the Romans, Jews, Gentiles and Simon of Cyrene could not feel beneath their feet? Uneasy birds, Restive in the dry sky, no music in their throats, just dusty chirps. Could a scientist someday prove they were all suddenly silent at that fractured moment after IT IS DONE. Who of those who loved Him would hear such silence as sobs rose? who of those who feared and hated Him would hear such quiet seconds as they turned, relieved, to walk down the bloodied hill? I think there was a moment that Good Friday afternoon when veil rent nature herself paused in terror and all the restless, anxious creatures sensing the wretchedness grew still. The birds high notes withered in the moment the frogs grew still; horses, heads raised, poised for the moment the earth grew still; the soft ears of cats heard the emptiness as insects held wings close, quiet in their loss. Collegeville, MN 1987