Answering the Call.

man carrying bag walking on street
Photo by Ben White, Unsplash.

I stepped into an aviary of sound,
it’s trumpet curling in the mid morn air,
calling me to listen, attend the signs
of winters slow eventual decline.

Reluctantly my feet marched to the streets,
where concrete slabs and tarmac overran.
Invading lorries, vans and endless cars
then hurled their heavy thrum into my path.

I raised my eyes to greet the passers by,
their visors down, they blanked my greeting call.
Until one man, a spring within his step,
Obliged my hail and smiled โ€“ heโ€™d heard it too.

Linking this to d’Verse Poets where Ingrid is hosting: https://dversepoets.com/2022/02/08/poetics-pounding-the-pentameter/ . As suggested, I did indeed walk while composing and must have looked an interesting sight as I occasionally stopped to count the meters out loud. I had a long walk to an appointment and the result pretty much reflects the experience.

23 thoughts on “Answering the Call.

  1. That man must have been me! Your words about the city resonate…the verse is a trumpet to me…to stay in the villages where everything is different, in very good ways, not least a lack of sound that you describe so terrifyingly well….

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This was a captivating write Marion. I donโ€™t walk anymore, health does not oblige. But I watch when I am in my electric cart. These times have the few people, that are not buried in their phones, downcast. It is hard not to be. I loved the possibility of joy expressed in this piece my friend. A pleasure to read.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you Rob. It cheered me up no end when this guy smiled hello back at me – such a simple action. So pleased you enjoyed the poem ๐Ÿ˜Š.

      Like

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