Such strange, new sounds
that play upon my ears
replacing feral voices
I’d listened to for years
the barking of Coyotes
as they finally made their kill
Horned Owls hoot-hoot-hooting
from a tree just down the hill
Gambel’s Quails whose numbers
cheeped and chittered from the scrub
a conspiracy of Ravens
as they swooped from up above
now it’s mostly voices
of my fellow human beings
such an odd array of noises
and emotions that they bring
voices raised in anger
voices raised in song
cracking voices of the aged
lilting voices of the young
mothers calling children home
neighbors spreading tattle
cafe crowds who raise a cheer
when the local team does battle
men with big loudspeakers
on the roofs of their old cars
pitching their promotions
which I find a bit bizarre
church bells which routinely chime
but never seem to tell the time
motor bikes and beeping horns
barking dogs of every form
those that whistle, those who cry
new voices heard from far and nigh
I often sit and contemplate
this sound-filled world I hear
I find in it some comfort
yet I find it in my fears
of days ahead with noises
most of the peopled kind
when my solace in the past
was saught in nature’s hushed divine
where when I walked I often heard
just footsteps and the wind
now when I walk down ancient streets
I’m forced out from within
adding to the daily noise
that fills the town with sound
greeting my new neighbors
and adapting all around
praying for my writer’s voice
amidst the village chatter
hoping that the noise without
will spur the words that matter
Dog-eared Stories by anne celano frohna 