But better be quick and pick up the litter for without warning, it could well reverse itself and scatter every last bit of leaf and debris into as slovenly a mess as only the wind can make.
w w w w w
Living just off a main avenue, with cars constantly tearing up and down the street with plentiful of neighborhood children, exuberant with laughter, shouts, cries, quarrels, passing the door, afoot, on bikes or skates; with planes zooming overhead, sonic booms rattling doors and windows; a neighbor who if he isn’t beating his drums in frenzied abandon is, as any hour of day or night, blasting his hi-fi with the kookiest jazz, there aren’t many moments of absolute silence.
So when one early Sunday morning I stepped out alone into the patio, and there was silence, a golden silence, it hit my ear with an acute awareness.
Even the air was still. Not a cloud moved in the deep, blue sky. All the world seemed asleep, and I held my breath for fear of arousing it.
I bent to turn the sprinkler key, for that is what I came out to do, but as the sound of the squishing water, I quickly turned it off. Let all be quiet. Let nothing destroy so rare a moment.
To accent the hush, form the tree over yonde4r came the rustling of leaves as a blue, feathered, grey breasted bird flitted from branch-to-branch. It trilled a long observation into space. Back came a short chirp. Then a chir…eee, chir…eee… as another joined the conversation.
A wonderful glorious symphony of musical silence.
Then, RAHoo…oohooo… The quiet was shattered, the magic broken. Down the street, a motor was laboring in a harsh whine. More ohoos, then VAHroom… roohm… brip.p.p.p… the engine sprang into noisy life.
Well, so be it. Let noise reign supreme. With a vengeance, I turned the sprinklers on full force, returned to the house and slammed the door tight shut.