Sound

 

good morning

ululation of pardalote

rummage of granola

spray of chia on bran

the ear all too soon

translating a crowd

kerang of tram

ping of updates incoming

 

good afternoon

vernacular laneway footsteps

traffic-light start-up

or gasp of sudden brakes

supermarket trolley disco

bellbird beep of barcode reads

outside again shine whine of plane

the surly throw of the wind

 

good evening

primitive ringtone town

din of deepest cafes

baristas po-faced hiss

ear curving sound to its liking

out in the air high bells

cross-dogs let off the lead

exhausts of vanishing cars

 

good night

blue note cd perfection

wineglass clinks

day’s news hi-jinx

then cutlery galumphry in sink

brit romcom in lip-synch

bins bustled to the verge

page rustled beneath lamp submerged

 

 

 

Sound (October)

October sounds different. Phones intone spiral ragtime then announce the caller’s name like a spectral owl. Texting makes the footsteps of a frog across a pond. Our photocopier registers each operation with the glee of a chipper songbird: 20 copies double-sided 20 copies double-sided. The heavens speak through the dashboard you are going the wrong way. Wrong way songbirds fend for themselves in repetitive heat. The ponds burn dry where the frogs made their twilight hallelujah chorus. The night owl has left the party and silently gone inland. Everywhere sound spirals emanate over gridded landscape built expressly for our comfort.