Noiz Pə-loo͞′shən

Intro

I wrote Noiz Pə-loo͞′shən after one of those early mornings when the quiet doesn’t last. I’d been sitting by the window with my coffee, watching the light unfold, when the day’s first roar began.

Engines, blowers, and that endless hum we’ve come to accept as normal. This poem came from the small grief of losing that stillness.

I sit by the window
long before the noise begins,
the world still folded in on itself,
half asleep and breathing slow.

light gathers in the glass,
a slow gold shimmer
through the quiet.

coffee in hand, I listen
to the hush between birdcalls,
the gentle pulse of my own heart.

then, like a bad idea,
it starts.
the roar, the spin,
the man sweeping nothing into nothing.

my peace scatters with the dust.
I stare through the glass
and wonder if he hears
the sound he is destroying.