Telly

The breadth and depth of the oceans,
the wideness of azure,
confound your tongue,
your notions of Time and measure,
compell your brain to fruitless labor,
the vain conjunction of syllables,
although your neighbors
nod to their function,
give you hello and goodbye,
the raising of shaven faces
among hedgerows, the cordial
phrasing of social graces.

In locked traffic, insolent horns
piping collective impatience
blare to inconsequence;
the griping, the protestations,
are nothing to the sun
rising above such riot,
indifferent and uncompromising.
And the sea is quiet.