I sit listening for sounds around me, the hum of a motor, the chirp of a bird.
A breeze blows rustling leaves.
In the back room the drip of a faucet is a metronome in two four time.
A distant bark of a dog answered by another.
The sound of an ax splitting wood.
A rattling lid on a boiling pan.
The sizzle of a drop on a hot stove top.
A fly drones then bangs against the window pane banging in a frantic rhythm.
Dust falling like snowflakes muffled.
Somewhere a radio plays.
There are voices too, thoughts converted into words.
Words spin and twist growing louder weaving a fabric.
I hear the crackling of flames.
Poems burn in my mind.