Bounded by the urban conglomerations of Amsterdam, Leiden, Rotterdam and Utrecht, the Groene Hart (Green Heart) of the Netherlands is a flat, relatively sparsely populated landscape of fields, woods, canals, lakes and villages. Nature is managed here with care and skill: in spring and summer the verges are bright with wildflowers, and there’s an abundance of birdlife. It’s a beautiful area for walking and cycling, or for trying out some of the numerous water sports on offer.

On a recent family holiday, I spent many happy hours roaming through the Reeuwijkse Hout (Reeuwijk Woods) and around the Reeuwijkse Plassen (lakes) in the Groene Hart. Paths criss-cross a varied landscape of marshes, lush woodland, quiet canals and ponds festooned with reeds. 

To the northwest the woods are bounded by the busy A12 motorway, which runs from The Hague towards Utrecht, Arnhem and the German border. As I rambled along the paths I was struck by the contrast in sounds – on one side, birdsong, the rustle of leaves, the low croaking of frogs; on the other side, an incessant rumble of traffic. We are tempted, as listeners, to focus our attention on the peaceful sounds of nature. But we need to acknowledge that the traffic on the motorway is necessary too, part of our complex web of human interconnectedness. 

This auditory experience found its way into a poem, “Soundscape”, which has been published in #Issue 48 of The Fib Review. You can read the poem here. 

In what feels like a year of elections around the world – India, South Africa, Europe, Iran, France, Britain, the USA – “Soundscape” also expresses my belief that we should all spend more time listening. The shoutiness of political discourse is deeply, deeply dispiriting. Politician or poet, farmer or office worker, pensioner or student, we need to pay considered attention to the voices with which we disagree as well as to the voices with which we agree. We must take time to listen, not only to those who shout loudly and incessantly, like the traffic on the motorway, but also to the quiet conversations in the reeds, the trees, the marshlands.

Most importantly, we should listen to the silence that underlies the sounds.