Watching Pushkin the cat today in the snow, ears twitching, alert, nervous about slight breezes rustling dried-up vines. Thought of the sounds we heard as young children - sharp awareness of sounds in the distance. Trains shunting & squealing over at the Minneapolis Moline yards.

(I had my ears checked last year - the doctor was quite surprised - said, "You have the hearing of a five year old." Not just the hearing, Doc.)


Old Autumn's drifted off once more.
Blank snow blankets the zero day.
Orpheus gets moving the same old way:
Westron wind... small rain... - let it pour.


Think of a highway littered with billboards, or
a Sunday layered with highway roar;
think of cicadas intoning "Nevermore"
(mid-August, mid-tree). Open the door,

. I've heard it said before.
Think of an Iron Range railroad car
shuttling across deep-frozen swamp or
reservoir - feel the weight it bore

on your ear.

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