Hear A While Poem by Kevin Eaglesfield

Summer garden lazing,
With my guilty idleness kit
Of book, beer and stripy deckchair.
I sat back, eyes closed, face to the sun,
And let its rosy cheeks sear my face
Until green spots danced behind my eyelids.
I felt the rigid spiny skewers that held
The 'Don't sit down' thoughts wobble and soften
And curl inwards as I let them sink for once,
And sank too, as though flattening and
Spreading and made of ice-cream.
I could hear every sound the world made.
Not as a cacophany,
But singly as I chose to hear,
And knew what each one was.
I heard the muffled flump of
Well-fed puffy clouds and the
Deep embracing sigh of the
Languid gusts that nuzzled them.
I could pick out the up an down glissando
Of the breeze down here, twining through
The trees and the random rasp
Of the dancing leaves.
Each bee on the lavender had a different hum,
From husky and throaty to strident and high,
And I listened to the woomph of
Pollen bags filling and the squeak of
Petals as they came and went.
Below, I caught the click of many legs
Scurrying and the tiny pop and gulp
As ants farmed slurping aphids.
The regular zither of a spider spinning silk
Came to me then,
And the non-stop crunch
And stuck-bog suck of a feeding snail.
I could even hear nuances
That made the bluebottle's drone
Seem oddly spiritual, and the pause
Between each slap of its wings.
I opened my eyes slowly,
Feeling greater and lesser
In equal measure.