Poetry 15th, June 2020

Because of Audiobook Appreciation Month, I'm making June all about sound. I realized that I wrote a poem about the loss of sound a couple of years ago after I had an injury that damaged my hearing for a month (fun times *grimace*), but I didn't have any poems about sound in general. 

If you'd like to use the above prompt for your own creative endeavors, please feel free to do so.

Here is my poem about sound, particularly the sounds I hear in my neighborhood in the morning.

Random question: Do you collect sounds? 

What do I mean by this? I collect sounds in my memory. There's this bird that I've heard every spring since I was five. When I hear its song, that means spring has arrived. There's a certain rhythm of burning wood. One rhythm means wildfire, and one means wood-burning stove fire. There's a sound that the ocean makes at night. I know it's the same during the day, but to me, it's different. Sometimes, when the wind is blowing hard through the trees at night, I pretend it's just the ocean and it helps me to go to sleep. There's the sound of coffee percolating in the morning that I associate with my dad because he's usually up before me and makes the coffee.  

 I've collected sounds as memories.

Do you do this?

Until next time...

-Arysta Henry/ Julia Garcia