Loud noises fill and turn my head:

ants burrowing in the walkway, a volcano in the Phillipines,

my great-great grandmother’s laugh, clouds burrowing in the sky.

How can we live with this cacophony badgering us day and night?

…

Stars chuckle, the morning sun scrapes against the hillside.

The moon hums, a neighbor calls her son home for dinner.

 I keep turning my head to see where the sounds come from,

And almost, I almost catch them before the brief silence cuts through,

Before my attention is pulled away to grass laughing out loud,

or a car horn

or the click of my niece’s heels crossing some street in Manhattan,

or any number of loud noises giving me whiplash and bad dreams.

How can I live with this cacophony badgering me day and night?

…

Even in dreams…I dreamed I heard a loud explosion far away in the forest,

 and the white fox who had crossed me years ago ran toward it.

I did not. I waited for the noise to fade, 

and for the silent fox to return.