Borobudur night sounds
Progo River hurrying through the shallows
chuckling tokay booming his love song
waking everyone who hasn’t already filtered him out
crickets pulsing
airplane’s vacuum gush
shaka shaka shaka cicada beat
thin voices down the bank
the odd rooster going off early
rumble of traffic somewhere
casual scratching of an old mosquito bite
the river swirls them all together
transforms the angular noises
into a smooth wash of night sound
closes the day
Mom says:
I wish we could all have the river as our white noise machine. Sweet dreams as you ramble.