Thursday, March 22, 2012

Between the Sounds

     As morning's solitude begins to fade into the noise made by people, I am trying to remain as quiet as possible. Amidst the loud and imposing sounds of cars backing out of our complex's gravel lot, the "swoosh" of the MARTA train, and the rumble of work trucks rolling in to fix the water line across the street, I can hear a bird warbling, and a dog barking. Inside, Simon and Lilly are sighing and snortling in their canine slumber, while my fingers tap away on the keyboard: click click click! I realize I am straining to listen for what's between the sounds. If I keep my mind still enough, I can hear and feel the silent hum of life, effortlessly reverberating throughout the snippets of auditory downtime.
     There is sap, busily coursing up and down tree trunks, and new leaves, bursting from their buds. In the garden my neighbors have just planted, there are carrot and watermelon seeds, lapping up the moist morning air which kisses the grainy topsoil, and tomato plants whose roots are hard at work, ingesting nutrients from the rich earth below. Tiny green caterpillars are lazily swaying back and forth beneath the trees, suspended by their glistening silken threads. Like miniature Tarzans, gently lifted by the wind, they kerplunk onto the soft moss below, undulating as they inch themselves along in search of a delicacy to nibble. Everywhere, there is pollen. Some of this dust is getting lucky right now, germinating on pistils and cones, transmitting its genetic information and ensuring the continued survival of its individual species, while wayward grains are being munched by the buzzing bees or plopping themselves all over my newly washed car. I'm aware of a drip...drip..., without a corresponding splash. In the kitchen, rogue droplets of water escape the faucet's constraints, quietly christening a half-full ceramic mug sitting inside the sink, the one my husband hastily slurped his coffee from in his clamor to leave for work.
    Although I am almost deafened by this fecundity, I feel tranquil. All around me and inside me is life's orchestral flow, the sounds and the non-sounds of which harmonize to support its melody, each note, chord, and pregnant pause imparting its own mood and texture, its soundprint. I am left with the thought that life's beautiful noise isn't just in the sounds it makes, it's in the silence that lies in between.

2 comments:

  1. Kris, such wonderful writing. You combine a scientist's keen eye for detail with a poet's sensitivity for words. Not only are your descriptions of nature's processes precise and accurate, they are also beautiful.

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    1. thanks for reading this, NP...i am so glad you enjoyed it, and appreciative for your feedback.

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