The light of dawn

Rays stretching like golden arms embrace the night,
Returning it to Morpheus so that it may dream.
The concerto of crickets and frogs now replaced,
By the cacophony of rush hour.

A chorus in my house begins with a single note,
Rapidly rising in pitch and tempo.
The tenor joins accompanied by the bass,
Reminding the conductor of nature’s calling.

A hint of vanilla teases me as it entwines
With the bitter-sweet scent of Arabica beans.
The momentary quiet I enjoy is quickly replaced
With the sound of an angry bee devouring debris.

Once more into the discordance of day I tread
With sirens screeching and horns screaming.
Of motorized hums and electrical buzzes,
Of telephone rings and people chattering.

A resentful orchestration of scent, sight and sound
Assault my senses from all directions.
The pungent, stinging smell of pitch is folded
in with the steady jarring shrill of a rock eating mechanical beast.

How I yearn for the time when the shadow of night
Will beat back the strangle hold of golden arms.
When the symphony of crickets and frogs returns
And the disharmony of day shall be at an end.