for weeks and weeks we woke
to only the sound of bird song
no rush of traffic, no motorcycles
no trucks rumbling in the dawn
the quiet was restful
we became accustomed to hearing the birds
they greeted us each day
quiet yet persistent, more elegant than any words

as Spring turned to Summer
and the State opened up
the highway roared to life
and the noise is frightening
what used to be normal
now sounds like a war
we wake at rush hour
feeling like someone poured cold water
on our once peaceful bed
shocked into consciousness

I will miss the quiet bird song
of lock-down mornings
the cleaner air
the peaceful stir of the wind
in the maples
as we all contemplated life
in the space of unstructured hours
instead of marching lock-step
toward death
amidst the din of clocks
and traffic

Posted Friday, August 28th 2020