LISTENING OUT THE WINDOWS

Listening through my windows
What is there to hear?
The cars of the Grande Prix kilometres away,
Buzzing like a distant swarm of killer bees.
The swish of the breeze as it trembles the aaspens
The squeal of bus brakes at the stops along Jasper Avenue
Do they ever take the squeal out of bus brakes?
The tweeting of the buses as the kneel for the seniors
And the baby strollers
And the wheelchairs.
Who would have thought, forty years ago, that buses would kneel
And wheelchairs would roll on?
The far-off shouts of anger
On the streets where people deal and drink and swelter in the sun
Robins and magpies, blue jays and sparrows, woodpeckers and wax wings, gulls and geese,
Dogs and cats and skateboards and the beating drums of dragon boats
Cars and trucks and sirens and lawn mowers,
Neighbours chatting
And a happy young couple laughing and laughing and laughing.