top of page


A cow is mooing in a field,

somewhere a crow answers it,

the difference in language,

in communication skills

is obvious.

There are no easy translations for it,

no way that they can understand

what the other needs.

The only difference between their names is an R,

and maybe the same is true of us as a species.

Different languages spoken,

with little common ground,

but maybe in the atonal screeching,

the out of tune normality,

the foreign tones,

the microtonal nuance,

there are new tunes to be played,

new rhythms to dance to,

if only we had the time to listen,

and properly understand.



The ambient noise of cars,

the atonal honk of impatient drivers,

rushing to work, until

March 2020.

When the Skies became clearer,

the Roads, quieter,

the deadlines, the timetables, simply


The Birdsong,

the rhythmic tarmac strike of pedestrians,

a Symphony.

The quiet third movement of a Concerto,

and at the end,

only one sound,

Blackbird music.

bottom of page