Arrazola’s Quiet

Arrazola.jpg

In the shadow of Monte Alban rests this peaceful pueblo where the roosters and infrequent church bells are the only sounds for wide stretches, where time ambles as slowly as the burros with their burdens and where cordiality is as ubiquitous as the wandering, wide-eyed dogs.

My whole life I’ve dreamed of afternoons as this, of allowing myself to become heavy and succumb to a lazy siesta on the porch and this yellow breeze that punctuates the near-silence. I could live an entire lifetime in this impossible sweetness.

Each kilometer of distance away from the city, the decibels lower until you can hear the aerial antics of a single fly.  With silence and with sound, as Pomeroy’s piece below, air is an essential ingredient.

From Row

–Ralph Pomeroy

 

Slap. Clap.

The lake’s back

laps the flat

boat. Croak,

goes a frog,

croak. Flo-

tillas of vanilla

water lilies

float. Moats

of air flare…

  • Take a turn playing with sound; see how it affects sense. Avoid end rhyme; amplify the internal rhyme.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s