There is comfort in sounds:

the sensation of next door’s washing, spinning; loud and bitter arguments filtering through heating vents;

warning beeps on rubbish trucks backing into culdesacs, wintering summer’s tenements and tin-bin clanking detritus singing communities’ symphonies;

whispers, pianissimo, drifting winds’ secrets shed in rustling papered autumn leaves,

and birds re-chorusing territories,

make hearing a synecdoche for being.

Tacet, unobserved, the cuckoo un-nests eggs, to crack, and conducts the caesura:

flattening air bourn harmonies with its two tone drone;

foreshadowing incantations to spring,

always already an echo;

ringing life and death in hearing’s Being,

now synecdoche for all earth’s living.

In response to Covid 2020-2021 in recognition that all news, good and bad, has been delivered and received in isolation.

No Man is an Island (John Donne)

Cherry Coombe 7 March 2021

Inspired by #GraysonsArtClub

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