My backyard has been quiet for seventeen days. I’m concerned about the boy’s orchestra. The boy’s house has joined in the music. When darkness falls on the orchestra, the voices in the house do not listen to the conductor. They are always loud.
When things finally quiet down, the boy comes out and sits on the back porch. His voice is not one of the loud ones. He doesn’t even speak. Usually, I have to quit watching when the boy comes out at night, because he goes around and bangs on the instruments like he did on the first day. It upsets me that he’s trying to replace the conductor, his twin weeping willow.
I fear the boy doesn’t know any better. I fear he knows only of loud and not of quiet, because of the voices his house adds to the orchestra each night. I fear he knows nothing of music, for the voices never cease long enough for him to listen.