The hum-thrum of the heat pump,
the roar and rumble of cars and trucks and taxis,
and the barrage and blast of commerce
spilling and filling city streets.
Absent.
The mind’s race and racket,
the whir and blur over lists,
the mental clock clicking and ticking,
preparing plans, marking meetings, checking and re-checking,
the constant groan of humanity’s shouts and cries,
and the chewing and digesting of news and views and ideas
taking space and place.
Subsides.
In their stead,
the clear calls of birds,
soft footfalls on cobblestone,
the stillness of mountains,
silence sitting in awe of art,
the rhythm of waves,
curiosity taking a stroll inside a village museum,
and all of these,
rising like tides to sweep across the landscape of thought.
Quiet.
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