Twist and Shout

Since moving house, I've adjusted to most of the morning sounds that compete for my wandering attention as I sit in the backyard.

Birds chirp on their way past while squirrels rustle through walnut trees. Traffic hum and a tucked away air conditioning unit barely register. It's quiet here with me.

As quickly as peace sets in, war breaks out. Rat-a-tat-tat shrieking bursts from the windows next door as an Indian lady ensures the future hearing loss of her children and husband.

My only release is in the sound of the cap as it twists from a bottle of beer. By the four arms of Vishnu, it must be noon somewhere.