Despite what others sing,
There’s no such concept as silence.
Not in my world.
Allow me to tell you why…
The cool, July breeze,
Confused by its own appearance,
Fiddles with the palm tree below the window,
Creating a gentle, tinkling meditation.
The constant throaty sigh of
Far off traffic drags the ear further away, until
A straddler breaks free of the snake and
Enters the street with loud intrusive clatter.
Then the 1430 train pha-dum, pha-dum, pha-dums to
A cold, piercing stop twenty yards away, before
Angrily revving it’s troll-holler engine and
Pulling away to nowhereville.
The irritation of a moped leads in
Several loud, laughing foreign accents.
This one with a squeaky spring eeeks by.
The clatter of a gate been thrown closed with a tinny echo.
A songbird tries to add its gentle melody, but
Another vehicle bounces over its tender tone,
With its tappits rattling like joke teeth.
There is no silence.
However, I’ve grown to be comforted by it.
I can grasp the tiny calmer moments in between,
Like sweet berries, pluck them and
Taste the honey juice from the centre.
There is no such concept as silence, but,
Now and again
There is an idea of peace that gently steps inside.