A crow barks in a nearby tree
relentless in its rowdy call until
neighbour, three doors down left
shouts “shut up!”
I feel his pain,
yesterday it was someone in the
street shouting “hey Joe, Joe, Joe, JOE!”
to the point where you’re silently screaming
Jesus just answer him Joe,
and for three days now it’s been a squeaky toy,
bought for a new puppy, four doors right, whose
owners’ tolerance is to be frank surreal – the
utter depravity of this relentless noise – and
really only surpassed by the surprise brought
in the restraint then collectively shown as we sit,
quietly in our Cuprinol-fenced zones,
trying to read a book or make a call or just still
the mind to contemplate the depth and purpose
and trajectory of our sodding futures, only
to find ourselves haplessly stuck listening to this shit
valiantly managing to refrain from the loud
“shut up!” deafening within.
Shut up.
Just shut the fuck up.
So I now, three days on, hear the neighbour shouting
at the crow who has come to represent all that is
Disturbing, Intrusive and Unacceptable in this world,
and I want to echo his sentiment, or at least support it
with loud applause, but I’m too damned British and
so instead I sit in quiet glee,
just nodding,
just smiling.
The ambience changed this week as
neighbours are, it seems, collectively
on annual leave – how bizarre – but
booked, presumably, when the weather was
fair and all seemed perfect, and so
now they light barbecues in the rain
with grim Dunkirk spirit,
smiles kept bright, voices chipper,
squeaking their fucking dog toys,
and pegging out washing overnight
that still drips low each morning,
wishing they could cut the grass
and at least feel there’d been some sort
of productivity to it all
but
in the midst of it
if just one
finds the courage
to momentarily shut the world up
well, for that I am grateful.
~ Zand, 24thJuly 2018
Photo by Nina Strehl on Unsplash
sandie zand 