Joseph Piecuch

Alive

My father had told me that the silence was wrong. The forest was once full of life, he had said, and that life would tell travelers when the sun was about to rise. He talked to me about how birds and insects would begin to sing to greet the new day, and the vitality the sun brought with it. Walking down the road with the remains of the silent forest spread out for miles on both sides of me, I can’t help but chuckle at the thought- the sheer absurdity of any living thing greeting their slow death with a cheerful song. Then again, here I am laughing at my own morbid thoughts on a deserted highway. Maybe the animals weren’t wrong after all.