The Front Porch of My House in the City I Live in During the Month of November

Well, it's just a few days before Thanksgiving in November, and I'm out sitting on the front porch in the dark night. As I sit here in the cool air and just listen to the sounds I happened to notice something, a division in the sounds from north to south. To the south, I hear a steady drone, the sounds of the city. A one-eighty in the other direction, and there lies natures rhythm, cardinal north. The city is intimidating, filled with the sounds of motors, construction, business, and voice. It all blends into an unending low frequency belch. The sounds my ears interpret from the north come in not only filling the spectrum, but encompassing a passionate rhythm projecting from such an incredible abundance and diversity of life. Nature is in harmony and we are here as dissonance. The city sounds like a vacuum, taking in everything and giving nothing in return. All too often I wish to be a ghost among people, simply living and observing from an outside perspective. I am thankful that I am here on this Earth now while she still holds on to much of her glory, and I just want to live my life embracing all of it. Suddenly, a number of police and ambulance sirens come to life in the northern end, it seems nature is in trouble. A cold breeze flows across my boney fingers and exposed face, the soft glow inside of my house burns like a kerosene lamp.