It’s difficult to hear the pianissimos with all this ruckus!

beyond

the 5th floor balcony

a horizontal line

of densely-populated trees

runs south to north

this 2nd of June, inhabited

by chirping birds, scurrying squirrels,

buzzing insects, and industry

clamoring in the short distance.

from 5 floors up, the treetops

confront me, rising no higher

than my line-of-sight, and

nature's tenants therein have things to tell me.

I listen to their confessions in birdsong,

the squirrel’s admission of yesterday’s

treasures in scavenging,

the insects, marginally justifying

reasons for their collective madness,

and fierce-sounding industry,–– introducing

its machinery’s accomplishments, eventually

placing the necessities of them in evidence.

In time I've heard enough, and absolve them

of their intrusions, releasing them unconditionally

to go about their occupations.

this is done by the power of my good graces,–– whereupon,

the snazzy earbuds are inserted into their respective canals,

continuing the "Langsam Misterioso" from Gustav Mahler's

"Symphony No. 2 in C minor,"–– and the longer this morning

continues its disclosures awaiting my adjudications, the more I feel

like a

fucking God!