The cacophonous world bites bits of our lives
as we walk – solace seeking, peace searching.
The din drone of engines, gas gutted,
drain our own life’s fuel, our pulsing cells,
works to pull from us our awakened lives
in naturally silent places but for bird call,
leaf flutter in cool evening breezes,
sounds of the setting sun in frizzled flares –
can I hear them if I try?  I can hear them –
quavering sounds of interstellar space
touching the intricate floating air I breath.

Portland, Oregon – August 29, 2017