I am not indifferent
to the swallows
who chirp and fly
in the open space
at the end of my street.
From my balcony
I see their festivities
when the world is quiet
and the sky is pale
But as the day sets in
and the sky grows bluer
their chirps get quieter
or rather -
everything else gets louder.
The delivery truck
unloading teas and tomatoes
at the natural food store across the way.
The city bus
starting its route
down the one-way street.
The sidewalk cafés
setting up and filling up
with breakfast visitors.
And my own world gets noisy, too.
My son calling for me,
my almost-audible to-do list in my head,
pings of messages on my phone,
the hustle and bustle of morning busy-ness.
The swallows carrying on
rejoicing their flying grub.
Their high-pitched noise in the background now
merely a memory of music.
I often wonder
why else hears them?
Who else notices, or cares?
I often forget
to check at midday
as I cross the street
or wait for the bus
to look up and see if they are still there
above the city din
flying free
in circles and wider circles
high and low.
And if not - where do they go?
When it gets busy and noisy?
Where is their refuge from it all?
These reminders of Nature
omnipresent and unconditional
always there to pull us back to her
and to ourselves.
To remind us
not to be
indifferent.
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