It’s here at last
Time to tilt up the chin
Close the eyes
Breathe in scents of
freshly cut grass,
the fragrance of an emerging bloom,
lunches taken outside
The auditory canal waiting
for the sweet song of Mother Nature
The roar and buzz of the mower
The whine and crackle of the strimmer
The clanking and crashing of plates
Shouts and screams of the kids next door
Shouts and screams of their parents
Their argument captivating a neighbourhood.
An incessant cacophony of engines,
out to impress
Pumping, bass heavy tunes
Not my choice of a soundtrack for summer
Desperately jamming in the earphones
Finding a soothing track with
bird song, and
babbling brooks, and
a gentle breeze
Hoping that underneath it all, there is a still
the whisper of summer
©wordsfromanotebook / suzie pearson