Hush

on cycling one day without my hearing aids in

The skylark ascends
in a silent, vertical line,
oyster-catchers flap
in noiseless distress
while quiet lapwings bomb
as I pass close to their nests
oblivious to their song.

I cycle slowly past
fields of voiceless sheep
and cars follow me
trying to overtake
but I’m deaf to their rush
as the countryside falls silent
as though someone called, ‘hush’.

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Author: George McDermid

I scratch out poems, and the odd little tale. Mostly for my own amusement.

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