Whilst Gordon engages in combing the world
Musing on a square inch of silence, sauntering
Through life into the depths of virgin forests
Desert islands, climbing mountains to dredge
An endangered species playing the violin.

Silence, dawn breaking across six continents,
Not the absence of sound but that noise. Noise,
The dissonant cacophony abating nature’s voice.
A drilling anthropogenic roar, of clatter and clangour,
The humming, the hissing, the screeching,

The whooshing, the ceaseless bruit of a welter of dins.

Kenyan roses from Nairobi came to visit for Valentine’s,
Whilst I was glad to receive them I dreaded the blare
Of their journey: travelling first class on a rumbling plane,
A chugging train, and a rattling idling delivery van,
Only to end, with the florist’s lackey insistently ringing my bell.

Just as Gordon, I muse and seek a square inch of silence
To heed, the rustling of leaves, the tinkling of rain,
The rippling of a stream, the chirping of songbirds,
The patter of their wings, the hooting of owls,
The scurrying of squirrels, the howling of distant wolves,

The crackling of blazing orange logs in the fireplace
As I write, attempting to quell my misophonia.

[Featured photo: Gordon Hempton, acoustic ecologist. (Credit: Shawn Parkin)]