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’.

Author: George McDermid

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

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