The Sound of Music

Close and think:

favorite smell is grass right

after dawn, the sunlight

tinting the night’s dew:

frolick and lie down,

jump if you can;

running the body across

the sharp — yet safe —

blades: Okay

stop thinking and peer

out the window, and see

the bleak fog and

the awful din of traffic;

hold hands on the sill —

and push — open the wide

expanse of curtains and soak

in the sounds of the day:

imagine the hills if you

have to

again but do not unsee

the red car speeding across —

float the car unto your hill, bathe

in its aluminum colour —

and honk its horn

way loud for the lark to fly —

listening to the poetry in the click of the key,

the slam of the door, the rev of the machinery,

to the modern sounds of music: the

industrial, the capitalist romantic

the inhuman human, and fill

your heart

with the same peace of

the bountiful grasses of the mind


This is the 100 Songs Project, a 100-day writing challenge based on AFI’s 100 Years…100 Songs. Every day, I write a short poem, prose piece, or play based on, reacting to, rejecting, accepting, or doing something related to one of the songs in the top 100 list.

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