If wolf were calling from the wood
and your heart laid in the meadow,
and the farmers dogs bayed the squirrel –
would you break the fray to ask the brood
to kindly stop the ungodly bellow?
Such terrific ruckus we hurl a’whirl!
Can a man enjoy a simple noon?
Without the buzzing in his ear?
Of a car speeding or a weed-whacker weeding?
Of a hen-pecking neighbor or a baby teething?
An un-muffled motorbike or anchor man reading?
A garbage truck wheezing or damned cats breeding?
A distant siren blaring or whining children pleading?
“When does it stop,” asked the man with bleeding ears.
“I just want to lay in the meadow.”
“Bad timing,” said the passerby –
“we’re just setting up for Woodstock.”
Another artist loses an ear….
Van Gough joins a friend this year.
Year after year after ear after ear…
God, God, can you shut them up!
. . .. .... ....... .......... ............... ......................... © 2014 John Allen Richter .........................
johnallenrichter 