Quieting

I turned off my machine, which was playing my habitual choice of music.

I turned off my preferred radio station.

I turned off the car ignition, and the air blower stopped huffing.

The leaves of the trees whispering.

The birds in the hedge-shadows calling to each other.

The low rumble of a distant airliner.

A pigeon's rhythmic cooing, dreamy and drowsy in the dappled sunlight.

In the centre of it, me, listening to my mind.

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