Summer Symphonic

The screen door chirps the ¼ hour

as kids oscillate between the kitchen and the yard.
The under-the cabinet mounted FM radio is always on;
and it plays more commercials than it does songs anymore.
But the songs sound like mortar fire behind a gang of cats in heat.
Momma’s canning kettle is rattling louder than the leaf springs on my Ford.

And she’s swearing at the pickles under her breath.

The neighbor’s got a chainsaw running 24/7.
And Leroy is snoring through his drooly jowls.
A million locusts are trilling in the pasture.
A lawnmower across the street is finding every single piece of gravel in the turf.
The ice cream truck warbles “It’s A Small World”
as it circles like a hawk looking for field mice.