Mundane

Like every other day,

I hear the grating grind and whir 

of lawn mowers, leaf blowers, 

a squeal of brakes at the stop sign, 

music blaring from car windows,

echoed incomprehensible human voices

from cell phone conversations.

These ordinary things 

should ground me, 

but I guiltily recoil. 

Give me the white noise 

of a breeze blown forest,

the small mammal’s squeal 

protecting a nest.

Grant me the music 

of bird song and the cicada, 

the whir of wings,

the grind of the woodpecker’s work,

hunting bark-burrowing bugs.

Set me on that leaf-strewn, 

mundane ground,

and release me.