Precious Hubbub

Bare feet on Mexican grass,
I hear the school kids next door
singing carols in the courtyard
along with squeaky loudspeakers.
Now the piñata, and their hundred voices
clamor wildly until
a teacher with a microphone
wakes the whole neighborhood
with instructions and entreaties.

Bare feet on Mexican grass,
I hear the church chime eight,
and roosters berate those still sleeping.
Neighborhood dogs join in,
insisting on Christmas exuberance.

I swim in the din, the river
of invisible fiesta, the jumbled ruckus
of excited sounds.
The dream of my meditation
simply isn’t working.
So I sit and listen, listen
to the precious hubbub of life,
my bare feet on the ground next door.

©Susa Silvermarie 2021