Fan rattles on
sucking in air
through the billowing screen
shoveling it into the musty loft
ruffling the space
a little
stirring up dust
a little
dragging in a little
relief.
Inconsequentially.

Refrigerator rumbles,
alien presence
doing its own thing
squatting in its corner
minding its business,
not much in evidence
unless one listens for it.
Carefully.

Dutiful chair issues its lifelong squeak,
footsteps clatter up stairs
reprising the same old footsteps
up the same old stairs.

Unsafety match scratches against stone chimney and flares,
Coleman stove whooshes, roars,
pot clanks against grill
bubbles gurgle, lid rattles
poured water protests
hissing into mug.

Blinds groan,
slither up the window,
to block out the baking sun.
Trapped fly buzzes angrily.
Cord zips
blinds whisper
and clatter down again.
Fly zig-zags off.

The ancient scurry of
a mouse or squirrel in the rafters,
the scrabble of crow claws scuttling across the hot roof
the feathery beat of wings
as it caws twice and leaves.

Back door creaks clumsily
bumps, thumps, rumbles, slams,
echoing the same eternal sounds
it has uttered
since first it came into being
and will utter always
until it tumbles back
into a pile of random boards.

Feet brush through tall grass,
outhouse lid slams
and rings hollow.

A dog barks wistfully.

The occasional wind
stirs trees and rustles leaves
urgently whispering.

And sometimes in a brief interlude
a three-wheeler intrudes rudely
and dissipates.

Down below the cliff
the broad ocean’s deep susurrus,
not mighty here, not booming
but massive nevertheless
in a constrained, gentlemanly, way
dumps fathoms onto the rattling stones,
draws itself back out again,
over and over,
while the river spills into it.

And over everything
a white-throated sparrow broadcasts
its treble tuweet-tweetytweet-tweetytweet-tweetytweet
programmed to be always
a white-throated sparrow
announcing over and over
its species’ one song.

There is comfort
in all this
eternal repetition.

The white-throated sparrow tweets again.