Silence - Oh! That blessed state,
where nervous rank and file await -
in blinkered head down concentration
and soon to come deliberation,
where not the slightest scratch of pen
disturbs the meditative Zen.

But then, though briefly, swings the door,
one pace outside, then one pace more,
And hark, the rustle lightly heard,
the murmur of a soft spoke word ;
The cat is missing, the mice will dance
when 'ere the moment falls to chance

Quando il gatto manca, i topi ballano
(when the cat is missing, the mice dance)

A friend of mine challenged me to write a poem about this Italian proverb