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!