319

anything to report?

the clang of a hand-held hammer on tin as an early-bird builder begins his day
the roar of a distant jet on its way to the Gold Coast airport
the growl of my empty tummy greeting green tea

warbles of bird-banter from there to there, and here
between my ears, as well

the great Shining, climbing into cloudless cerulean
is throwing its bejeweled finery over the fields

a quiet footfall sounds on bare wooden floorboards
a melodic drippety-drip echoes from the down pipe
and there’s revving engine-speak from a passing garbage truck

the pulsing thump of a water pump
courses through the singing silver silence
of this vast and teeming emptiness

~