By John T Haupt
Crickets chorusing chirp chantingly, faint in the impious hum of climate-controlling boxes.
A dog's lonesome bark and a cat’s howl somewhere beyond the artificial light.
The clicking tap tap of me on my phone.
The silence where voices once sang in my head.
When the growling boxes rest, winds push trees aside in a whisper.
But I have labors waiting in this symphonic hiatus of soft rest.
They usher me to bed.
Copyright © John Haupt | Year Posted 2020
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