Voices on the Wind
BENEATH THE NOISE
by Kathy Cotton
Undressing day noise,
I shed octaves and decibels
like rumpled shirts and dirty socks
tossed into a hamper.
Stripped clean, I slip beneath
the silent blanket of night
only to find those hushed songs that play
unheard all day, suddenly amped up.
Wires hum behind walls,
water sways in earth-packed pipes.
Breath and blood dance beneath skin,
and synapse to synapse,
thoughts leap like Baryshnikov.
Life’s tiniest rhythms, particle to wave,
wave to particle, thrum in my cells,
lullaby my weary ears to sleep.
From the roof, a multi-lingual mockingbird
announces morning, and another day
dresses itself in layers of silk and denim sound.
Drops of water rush together,
flush, splash, pour, drain. Spoons scrape bowls.
The city jerks from flat line to spiking decibels
of voice and radio and lawn mowers,
angry horns and grinding gears.
But now. . .beneath the noise I hear
the whispered song of spinning atoms.
Beneath the work-day’s loud coat,
I wear the quiet music.