Sitting, Waiting
By: J.Koppe
Sitting, waiting to hear all the sounds in the air.
The bustle of leafs in the trees wrestle the breeze.
I hear the sound of the air whooshing at my ears.
There go sounds of whistles from the neighborhood birds.
How those birds tweet so well, and
I always enjoy hearing them fly off too.
The zing’s of insect’s flying by.
Buzz off bugs don’t bother me tonight.
I hear the trampling and frolicking of rascally vermin,
hunting around in the backyard.
The sounds of motors being ignited,
speed car's passed the intersection
down on the street.
I’m on my balcony
to the side of my building.
Facing the side street from the busy main,
that is in the front of my building.
Who blew that bull horn?
Fwooo! (Made me jump)
Slaps from the tires hitting flatten old scrap.
I hear people, heading on down the street,
through the city as they ramble on passed me.
I also hear the rumbling sound of the train blowing through town.
The nice cool breeze of late spring, also invite playful screams.
As I hear the sounds of people coughing on into the doctors office that's right below me.
I just sit and wait to hear all the things I can hear.
As I try to concentrate, and even meditate too.
Until the sound blast from the cars come full throttle down the street.
The sounds of some cars thumping their bass from out of their speaker's, and
the wattage booms, to stop all other sounds from being heard.
I hear them now and again,
they leave a ring and a roaring a block on down the road.
I hear the sounds of electric humming as the day turns into night.
For whom did that bell toll,
It’s 8:00pm, and I’m still sitting here, listening to the church bells ring.
Oops, it looks like it might rain.
Now if the light had a sound it would sizzle the day into a haze.
The down pour of the rain comes in an instance.
Knowing the night needs room to breathe, for all the sounds the good night brings.
As the rain fades away it leaves drips off of fixtures,
and splashes from all other movable objects.
From automobiles, to rushing feet splashing through puddles.
The rain and night leave an impression, as if it were a watercolored city scape.
I hear the humming of the street lights turning on.
As the sky turns dark, and the sounds I hear change.
The chirping of critters that creep.
The crickets making the twinkle of the night, sound so right.
As I lay down to hit the hay for the night.
To my bed I snore, and I wonder who can hear that.
I really can’t say.