“Take a seat,” Paul said, pointing to the bench at the edge of the park. “Now close your eyes, old friend, and take it all in.”
Chester did as Paul suggested, sat down on the bench, and closed his eyes. “Now what?”
“Just listen,” Paul responded. “Open your ears, your mind, your imagination.”
Chester sighed and followed Paul’s instructions. He heard the chirping, singing, and squawking of a variety of birds. He heard the sounds of dogs, large and small, barking, of children playing, of car horns honking, and of shoed horses’ hooves clopping along the cobblestones.
He heard the creaking of the branches of large, old trees swaying from the breezes. In the distance he heard the faint sounds of some street musicians playing acoustic guitars and drums.
After a few moments Chester opened his eyes, looked over at Paul, and said, “So?”
“Don’t you hear it?” Paul asked.
“Hear what? You mean all that noise?”
“You call that noise?” Paul said with a tone of irritation in his voice. “You’re such a curmudgeon. That “noise” is a beautiful symphony of the sounds of nature in concert with those of the city. It’s breathtaking. It’s inspiring.”
“A symphony, you say? Chester mocked. “No, it’s a cacophony,” Chester said. “It’s just a lot of noise that doesn’t blend or harmonize.”
“You’re a cantankerous old fart,” an exasperated Paul said.
“Actually,” Chester said, “I’m a hungry old fart. Let’s head over to that deli on 3rd Avenue for a symphony of culinary delights.”
Written for today’s one-word prompt, “symphony.”