It’s the sound of a bird’s cheerful
chirps coming from the cattails,

and a mournful cry
from another hidden one.

It’s the unmistakable
quack of city park ducks,

and the angry screech
of a car speeding around

the sculpture garden.
The silent stares

of turkeys hanging
around the unfinished trail

I sneak onto. And the call
and response of geese

as they swim in the lake.
It’s the surface

quiet of woolly bear caterpillars
centimetering along,

and the leaves that scratch
the sidewalk in a warm breeze.

It’s the true hush

of a dead woolly bear
on the pavement.

And the silence of drained
pools now that they’ve shut

down the fountain for the winter
to come. The stridulation

of late-season crickets
marks the morning.

And you, dawn,
I swear I can hear the ocean

in your breath.