CACOPHONY

                    The “VIDEO” bird is chirping lustily,

                    While up above a Cessna’s drone drifts off,

                    And now a 707 descends toward me

                    With others soon to follow, still aloft,

                    And all this morning ruckus keeps me from

                     Discovering a poem of any worth,

                     Leaving my stifled Muse abused and dumb,

                     Once copious but now, alas, in dearth.

                     But hark!  A sudden stillness has descended,

                    And maybe now my Muse may reappear—

                    Perhaps this vast cacophony has ended

                    And now a channel to the Source is clear.

                       A single warbler tweets, as if to say,

                       “The stage is yours: you may begin your play.”

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