Natural Volume Control

The freeway sounds like a waterfall.

The sunrise
makes no noise,
none of its own,
it's more volume control
for all that scurries below
and flies above it.

Sunrise above San Francisco Bay this morning from atop Potrero Hill. 10.28.24

As its light and warmth rise
so does the low white noise
of the morning -
a distant plane taking off;
the deep thumping drone 
of a diesel engine powering
a tugboat across the bay;
the rhythmic metallic 
rattling of the commuter train 
two blocks away;
an occassional blast
of the train's haunting 
but muted horn.

As it rises higher
and sneaks
just above
the edge of undulating 
hills and fields, 
life below intensifies,
the warming Earth and air
kicking off heavier breezes
that rustle and sway
the trees.

Traffic in and out
of the city quickens,
the increasing rush 
on the freeway below
sounding like 
the base of a heavy waterfall,
if you close your eyes
and let your imagination run.

Once it's ascended
and its bright light 
morphed from burnt orange 
to stark white that can blind,
most everyone drops their eyes,
abides by the ebb and flow of the day 
and waits for sunset 
to turn the volume
back down.