Roaring, rumbling, distantly humming.
The trees speak in hushed whispers in response.
The cars zoom on by as the sun becomes hidden behind the mountains.
He seems not to notice the time of day; the complex dialogue between man and nature that is taking place.
Standing on a ridge he sways back and forth on the muscle of his right leg.
For hours, he holds his phone up to his ear. Does he hear it, too?

Another dialogue down the path; a dancer blaring his music to impress his girl.
Three puppies begin to sound the alarm as a mirrored image barks back.
They most certainly hear it, too.

Scattered clouds, carpeting the arrival of celestial soul; the half hidden.
Both in the sky, speaking.
The sun resigning.
They must hear it.

Scanning eyes.
There's gossip to my left and mosquitoes to my right.
They must hear it, for how could they not?

I am a town underspent.
New tenants bide their time on the grounds I had.
Whistle softly. The concrete titans do not breathe.
Flowing slowly out of nothing.
A rock falls from the bridge above.
No one pushed it.
Maybe it heard it, too.

Creamed colored sky reaches to warm the soul.
A blanket neatly folded on the chair arm.
An umbrella opened, blocking the sun as the wind blows around.
I know they hear it.

That awful buzzing.
I cannot stand it.
I see it more than hear it.
I want to throw myself away; let me be recycled.

There's buzzing in the sky.
The sun heard it and ran.
Helicopters churn and patrol.
They watch all of us, Vanguard.
Why do they scare the sun?

I can't stop hearing it.
The shouting.
Where did the man on the phone go?
The puppies barking?
The dancer dancing?
The sun shining?
On one end the blanket unravels from years of abuse.

I feel colder than normal.
Where did they go?
Did they hear it too late?

I can't see! Oh please, will the buzzing come back?
Where am I?
Moon, guide me. I will cherish you fully.
Where are you going?
Do you hear it, too?