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🦋 The thin shrill whine of creeping hearing loss
The noises on my evening porch on Meeker Street divide
into infrequent spots of sound --
the quiet cars and trains far off and sometimes getting closer --
and constant streams, these further classified
into degrees of variation:
cicadas' incessant, homogenous roar muffles
(but listen closer)
the babbling brook of excited birds:
the quiet fizz of soda in my glass.
posted evening of Friday, June 8th, 2012 ➳ More posts about Poetry ➳ More posts about Writing Projects ➳ More posts about Projects ➳ More posts about South Orange
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Drop me a line! or, sign my Guestbook. • Check out Ellen's writing at Patch.com.
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