Wearing hearing aids these past 24 hours has been an
extravagantly sensory inundation; and I’m not unaware
there are other sounds out there - tho’, maybe at times,
am glad I don’t have to recognise and categorise them;
unamplified they are easily blended in a mellowness of
ambient, unspectacularly ordinary background noises;
- it isn’t until an augmented air of bird chatter flings the
towel irremediably into the ring - shattering such calm
Then I have to attend to this reality; the raucous crow’s
calls are truth as much as feeding lorikeets shrieking in
deafening unison are facts of living near trees in flower,
& I don’t need reminding some bird song isn’t melodic,
or ear pleasing either, sounding so much like acrimony
one learns to expect from our parliamentary clique
But in the event there’s a sense of participatory geste
that pays fuller feelings nearer the core of what one’s
being is supposedly about; so comprenez, when you
shut birds and the rest of it out you’re denying part of
who you are; therefore I see hearing aids worn more
regularly - and even without human company
© 20 November 2014, I. D. Carswell
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