This morning I share with you an ode, a poem, a painting in sounds that I wrote on January 27th after biking home from a Silicon Valley Bicycle Coalition San Jose Team meeting.
"Tonight's City Symphony"
On two wheeled journeys
through this City's streets
I hear a symphony of sounds,
sounds muffled by car doors and windows,
so that perhaps many do not know what they sound like, really.
So I will tell you what I've heard, so you can listen, too.
The murmur of freeways crossed under and over, they hum and buzz, white noise that doesn't go away but fades and grows as you move between neighborhoods.
The creaking and rumbling of light rail trains, reminding you with a bell that they are on the move; watch out for their tire-eating tracks!
The honking and revving of cars passing by--sometimes louder and closer than you want. Yikes!
An airplane's thunder and light show in the sky; brake to a stop and experience it through your sky without a roof.
The squeak of bike chain, which says for you, "I'm here!" until you shift gears and it stays silent until the next red light.
And gloriously, happily, if you listen closely, you just might hear the ribbeting of frogs singing from the thrist-quenched Guadalupe River, grateful for the rain and chance to celebrate.
All this you hear, and more, if you listen closely--sans headphones, sans car walls, sans the sound you make in your head when you think too much.
Listen, there's a symphony of San Jose sounds; they play for you when you tune in.
"Tonight's City Symphony"
On two wheeled journeys
through this City's streets
I hear a symphony of sounds,
sounds muffled by car doors and windows,
so that perhaps many do not know what they sound like, really.
So I will tell you what I've heard, so you can listen, too.
The murmur of freeways crossed under and over, they hum and buzz, white noise that doesn't go away but fades and grows as you move between neighborhoods.
The creaking and rumbling of light rail trains, reminding you with a bell that they are on the move; watch out for their tire-eating tracks!
The honking and revving of cars passing by--sometimes louder and closer than you want. Yikes!
An airplane's thunder and light show in the sky; brake to a stop and experience it through your sky without a roof.
The squeak of bike chain, which says for you, "I'm here!" until you shift gears and it stays silent until the next red light.
And gloriously, happily, if you listen closely, you just might hear the ribbeting of frogs singing from the thrist-quenched Guadalupe River, grateful for the rain and chance to celebrate.
All this you hear, and more, if you listen closely--sans headphones, sans car walls, sans the sound you make in your head when you think too much.
Listen, there's a symphony of San Jose sounds; they play for you when you tune in.
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