Linking with Toni's wonderful Wednesday Muse for Night Sounds
Come join us!
The day has eyes; the night has ears. ~David Fergusson
In the suburbs one only hears sirens
and creeks in the
halls
no owls no frogs
nor cricket calls
You have to venture
To your own back yard
To hear nature’s voice
In the suburbs you must listen hard.
©Carrie Van Horn 2019
Note: When I was a child I used to stay with my babysitter a lot and she lived on a farm right off the I-35 freeway. Of course, they kept their windows open to have a breeze and throughout the night you could hear the semi-trucks barreling down the highway. We were in the middle of a beautiful farm with all the animals you would imagine a farm would have, and that is the sound that I heard most at night. It was soothing in a way. A periodical hum that put me to sleep many a night and yet would wake me up as well.
Photo: Courtesy Google Images
Gosh, in my suburb we get the annual Attack Of The Crickets, which should be coming up soon. I love hearing them outside, but when the summer wanes they like to try to come inside and in the house they are LOUD and become my sworn enemy cos they keep me awake. That aside, I adore this poem, as well as the note afterward. I can hear those trucks and farm babies.
ReplyDeleteI am sure we do too, I just cannot hear it at night, unless I am outdoors, and I am half deaf anyway. LOL Thank you Shay. Compliments from you always make my day! It is like having Stevie Nicks tell me I have a good voice. (That will never happen, but one can dream)
DeleteMy comment on this disappeared. I am glad I returned. We are in an odd pocket here, in limbo between city and country. I hear the trucks on the freeway and the cows mooing in the rain. This poem takes me back to the days on my grandmother's farm. The cicadas and the cows. This is truly lovely
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Toni! I know those kind of memories are branded on our hearts.
DeleteI grew up in the country and the sounds of animals truly soothes me. Spent the night once in a foreign country - a rustic area with old farms and such. Their roosters crowed all through the night which I thought strange. Maybe the difference is we put our hens and rooster in a chicken house at night... I thought roosters only crowed at daylight. !! Lovely poem!
ReplyDelete