The Sounds of Home
Growing up, home was a certain Eden --
A sound garden always in full bloom.
The birdsong of my brother’s laughter
My father hooting at the football game
clapping his hands like rolling thunder
at each touchdown, roaring at each loss.
A rustling of papers from my mom’s art room
like the branches of an oak rustle
as a cat leaps in. The thumping of feet
Stampeding down the hallway.
My baby brother babbling like a brook.
Somehow, this life harmonized
Into the soundtrack of a childhood.
And me, in the kitchen, standing at the stove,
Humming a sweet tune, always off key,
Chopping garlic to the rhythm of raindrops,
The hot pan sizzling like the rattle of a snake.