Villanelle with a line from Marina Tsvetaeva

Beneath the usual daily cacophony,
some shush or small waterfall of sound—
Where does such tenderness come from?

The earliest sounds in the pre-darkness of
morning: the shuffling of feet, cars backing up
besides the usual daily cacophony.

But in the countryside, stars are more brilliant
than billboards on the edge of the highway—
Where does such tenderness come from?

You can hear the descant of frogs,
water sloshed by river rats; bat-flaps
beneath the usual daily cacophony.

At a traffic stop, a pulsing bass;  
then, mercifully, the wind takes it away. 
Where does such tenderness come from

under the bridge?  Someone is scattering
breadcrumbs; ducks and geese congregate
beneath their usual daily cacophony. How
faithful, the meting out of such tenderness.