pur ple pip

There is a woman (or man)
tapping at the window.
I think they need something.
I look around.

It is definitely a woman.
I can't hear though
and I can't make out the words.

By the arms flaying in the air
I know that she's upset.

I turn back to my desk,
I have things to do.
Too many hours spent at work
too much done to stop now.

The tapping has grown over the past few days.
Each time I look behind
I see more people,
different people
angry, upset, beckoning me.

Not sure why.

I'm close now,
I diligently sort through the papers
and drawings ;
and put them in the folder.
More things
have arrived on my desk.
The pile always go down when I'm busy,
it's just when I rest it grows.

......

It's weeks now, it might be months.
I've done so many good things
and I've learnt to drown out
that incessant noise at the window.
It's quite easy really
I'm getting quicker at processing.
Incredibly good,
if you don't mind me saying.
And the sounds at the window,
they're not that bad really.
I think I can hear harmonies
and beats.  I sometimes sing along.
I haven't looked back at the window
for quite some time now.
By eating as I work
I can stay on top of things.

The cadence of the work cycle
is enchanting,
Flowing back and forth
things come in and things get done.

........

I'm not sure how long it's been
since the noise at the window stopped.
Things haven't been piling up on my desk either,
so I think I'm done.

I don't know where everyone has gone,
I can't recall the work that I've finished.
Once complete it was taken away
and my room is now empty.
When I open the window
the air is still and
it's so quiet.
I'm sure there used to be birdsong.