Street Sounds on a Windy Afternoon

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The breeze pours through fresh maples

spring is upon us, we gather fragrance.

Without their leaves and branch and root

the sounds would be lost in a cavern

Occasional noise interferes to remind us

we are in the city, a street cleaner sends

clouds of dust to tease the open convertible,

the owner reacts with little recourse.

Wait, while the light changes, the highway

ahead will sweep out the dust that irritates

eyes beyond sights of shallow smiles

and complex expressions telling the day

to each observer, before the honk, the engine

roars to nearly cradle a smaller compact

trying to get home to their vibrant landscape.

~

A thousand automobiles will pass through

trained lights and merged realities to go home.

While the action bumps and grinds a mechanic’s

dream, Earth; nature’s permanence will tease

the eyes that wish themselves laying about

on the green lush grass of a lovely afternoon.

What if the lights didn’t change and everything

stopped until the serenity of gazing about were

disrupted by taunting horns and slammed doors?

Would we in the human condition recognize

they haven’t a choice but to listen to our whines

as we try to recover from the injury of Man,

the purveyor of such disruptive tones in harmony.

A stalled engine gives opportunity to amend yet

instead self-guided concern creates a loud barrage.

~

We will come home in a reasonable amount of time

while the leaves on the trees sing breezy melodies.

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