Rattle and Hum

I was rattled, dazed, and dogged for endless days

when the relentless beating sun blinded me,

in part, while driving in a heavy, milky haze.

Rounded sharp corners smartly and speedily.

Brisk October air rushed amid the heady fragrance of fir.

Evergreens stood strong, commanding due respect.

Muffled droning sounds, a murmur, or a mocking whisper?

Indistinct, its true source and substance rather suspect.

Beware –to the dim-witted, feeble, or poor in spirit.

Make haste to the simple wood shanties twenty miles away.

No matter for better or worse; they just cannot hear it.

Sense makes no earthly sense to cowards caught in the fray.

J. L. Smyth