SENSES, SECOND, HEARING
You are awakened early on a warm summers day,
When the glorious morning chorus comes your way,
A cacophony of sound, saying it’s good to be alive,
Telling us loud and clear a new day did now arrive.

When we hear sweet music, each can have a choice,
Do we not feel our whole being want to gladly rejoice?
The gurggle of a babbling brook, the roar of mighty seas,
The rustling of the leaves blown by a gentle breeze.

The sound of clattering in the kitchen, cooking going on,
Plates being placed on the table, together for family fun.
The friend who’s a battologist says things over again,
Who always drives you crazy often causes some pain.

The laughter of friends and family, words flowing free,
Hearing all these things brings such great joy to me,
Even that crazy fellow who tells the same old thing,
Think how much joy that voice to the deaf would bring.

As I listened to the snowplow clearing up the snowy mess,
I did not think it exciting, then I heard a sound that I did bless,
The ‘I love you’ from my husband as he climbed out of bed,
What if I could not hear and that sweet sense to me was dead.

I would survive, many do, but what a great loss it would be
Not to hear the sounds of nature, music and dear family,
Blabber on and battologize, with your constant repeating,
And yes, I will listen for I know what the deaf are missing.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson January 21, 2004