Loud

The needling pressure

into the brain,

of insistent sound,

coming,

never going away,

totally.

 

Engines,

full of fuel,

the drone of them,

pushing into the distance,

along a close highway,

the whine never quite ending.

 

We are loud.

 

And the birds,

in the yard,

behind the house,

keep singing.

IMG_4667

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