How odd.

I sit in my recliner, in the family room

reading poetry on Authors Den,

yet I hear ocean’s waves breaking

upon some distant shore.

Has the tinnitus in my ears

turned from ring-a-ding-a-ding

to the much more pleasant sound

of waves as they follow

the cycle of the moon?

I look outside for a source

of the sound--wind gently 

stirring the leaves

but not in rhythmic melody.

So I walk to the front of the house

and see outside a construction truck

stuck in a rut of its own making.

The spinning of the tires, digging

themselves a deeper and deeper

trench, mimic the sound of the ocean

and I laugh at the absurdity.

How odd indeed.