early morning
cars and trucks
whiz and rumble
on the four
and five-lane street
the rhythm and the volume
calypso and roar
and sometimes decrescendo
to a solitary jingle

there's a pause in the traffic
and what is that I hear
as i am walking through?

brush and whisper
brush and whisper

I look up.
branches of old trees
bearing thousands of leaves
arch and reach
like a forest cathedral
the conversation of leaves
rustling dryly, passionately
green leaves of summer
healthy and bright
dancing in sunlight
make quiet waves
of percussive symphony

i cup my ear to listen
it's a sound i have forgotten
i am so thirsty -
the trucks and the cars
are again in high volume
the humble hobnobbing of leaves
is no longer audible
i am walking on