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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