Poem: Noise

 

Noise

 

cannot be silent

in the way of a lake.

we clamor, bustle and complain.

 

no hint of the sonata of a loon,

a cricket croon,

or the ancient fugue of coyotes.

 

our lampposts blare all night.

 don’t have it in us to succor the quiet.

our very attitudes 

belch with the bravado of leafblowers,

tirades that richochet off each other,

ostentatious in their obstreperous.

 

collective and multiplicative.

 

it’s the antithesis of the humble.

the air strains

to host so much noise.

even so, we keep on trying,

upping the density of the hoopla 

& rackety-clackety.

 

it’s the reverse of majesty.

each of us an endless whoop,

not so still against the woods--

competing decibels and verbals.

 

all other life around us,

those nuisances and pieces,

 if they dare to be seen,

 had better learn to listen,

to be meek and harnessed,

to reply.

 

 

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11/30/24 ... mods

11/11/24 ... mods