She finds the scale hard to accept,
used to neck-cricking skyscrapers,
the Big Apples’ wide streets,
noise that rumbles and squeaks
Evening silence of an English country town
fills her ears like water, unable to be shaken out.
Gloucester cadences pour treacle-thick
against her vowels,
wash against them like a lazy tide
that shifts and swells, so she listens hard,
wants nothing lost in translation.
Limey politeness bemuses her
as does reserve that feels hard as a wall
until it is cracked.
She returns stateside now and then,
takes sustaining bites of her home town.
Adjusts to her move from culture zones
during a long polyglot flight.
Settles back here into a slow pace.
Is glad to have been adopted.
by Miki Byrne