The Oldest, Wildest Song

Take a walk in the city, you’ll hear it:

Splosh through a forest of faces,
Trudge through a bramble of fuss,
Get stuck at a muddy corner
That’s being held up by a bus.

Wait puddled up with humans
For the BEEEP of pedestrian lights –
No, that’s not the oldest, wildest song,
Keep going, keep listening, stay bright.

Cross streams of fast-flowing traffic
With twigs from exhausts floating by,
Then please dodge the very young luncher
Who’s making a mess with a pie.

Hurry under tall, billowing rooftops –
You’ll feel pillows of coolness from shops,
Then drink from silvery street fountains –
You’ll hear clatters and trumpets, and coughs

And splitters and smatters, brief voices, some patters
Shoes clacking, tongues clicking, and HONKS,
But don’t be fooled or sing along –
They’re not the oldest, wildest songs.

Race quickly to where you’re going,
Forgetting the slowness of trees
And then, through the hustle and bustle…
From a treetop’s loud shuffle and rustle

Hear a high-flying, neon-bright “SCREEECH!”

The oldest, wildest song.