Sounds, how strange
Great and small
Struggling to pinpoint them all
As they surround
Each making itself known

Clacking of fingers across a keyboard
Near silent whir of the air conditioner
Hum of the refrigerator
Chatter and occasional cry of a housemate
Thundering of small paws above
Clicking and clacking of dog nails against hard wood floors
Voices from a computer screen
The occasional car whizzing past the street
The brief notes of a viola a room over
The flapping of the dog door
Creak of a door
Adjusting in the chair
Sighs of the dogs and people alike

Tired eyes blink slowly
Hands ever so stiff
Back aching, begging for movement
Feet and legs long since numb

Nothing is silent
Not in this time
Nor in this place

- Jay M
December 7th, 2020

It is fascinating to listen to the world wake up in the morning. It’s as though everything is still and frozen in time that even the birds are hesitant to start their morning songs. But then suddenly, as the first stretch of daylight crawls across the lines and rows of rooftop houses, you can hear the whole Earth start up in stages. First the signaling of the distant trains, their own morning song in a way I suppose. Then the rest of the neighborhood follows suit in a chorus. Car engines rattle on to melt the ice off their windshields and they too, groan and moan not yet ready for the daily grind. I picture people sipping their coffee while their kids quickly and hastily brush their teeth to make it to school on time. The buses stagger in lines to greet them at their doorsteps. One by one the birds unruffle their feathers in the treetops and begin to rise in song. The streets that just lay undisturbed moments ago, pristine with a thin layer of 4AM dew, are now bustling with car exhaust and scurrying street cats who are simply trying to get out of the way. And you in the midst of your tossing and turning murmur something in your sleep and I wish I could lie here forever.

your constant, unending noise
i rebuke thee, '*******!', beautiful mind strangled into crude curses
profane in nature,
rituals of execration in the dead of night and stillborn morning,
lit by a brazier of an ungodly hued red,
as you roar like thunder into delicate ears.

'please be quiet'
i petition to the wailing angels
stabbing at my eardrums with harpy claws,
rip my brain to shreds in echoes of outraged confusion
'tearin' out your hair like a banshee'
LEAVE ME ALONE

sometimes I want to scream,
to open my throat and let raw, audial emotion pour out of my mouth

in unlikely and inappropriate places:

I want to be louder than the grate of iron against iron on the metro,
than the sharp whine of subway against tracks
than the hum of electricity
and the noise that makes up this city
and the noise that makes up the world.
I want to be louder than the noises that reverberate from other people's lives,
and louder than bureaucracy,
and louder than the din of policies and senseless complaints.

but then I think about the summer lockdown,
the humidity of western Tennessee,
the chorus of cicadas in the forests,
devoid of human noise and interaction.

I think about the luna moth I found on my doorstep one morning,
Sheltered from sun, cicada, and wasp.
They stand for luck, you know, and all good fortune.

They don't have mouths.

Let my silence be a lesson
To be careful what you choose
You dropped what you assumed would always be there
Now you covet the thing you lose

Your life is absent of my sincere words
And you miss the way they sound
Yet you took my voice for granted
All the time it was around

What you did not bother to say
Was what my spoken thoughts meant to you
I expressed my love for you every day
But you couldn't tell me too

Nightfall on the Sound,
Houselights come on one, two, three...
At last! I can write.

I hear the roaring of the brook
so wild, untamed and free.
It’s just… Beautiful.
Catching everything that comes its way.
And I see my reflection smile back at me.
The world as I know it has changed.
Everything is different now.
Everything has been rearranged.
All the lights have gone quiet on the stage.
All the sounds are gone.
Silent.
All the people, at home.
It’s so quiet.
Will it be this way forever?
Has it changed?
Will it ever go back to how it was?

The Rains Came...

the rains came in short, but lovely, bursts
clouds, that had been only skyward visitors, decided to weep
welcome, welcome rain from high up
come and fill our flowers cup
leave some moisture for us to keep
leave it while the desert sleeps
let it soak into the ground
giving up lifes nector, with nary a sound
the rains came in short, but lovely bursts....

Brian Hill - 2020 # 308