Nature’s Song

                                                          

 

The shrill call of a crow,

A quiet twitter of a bird,

A soft hum of a fly buzzing busily by,

The feel of crystallized sand,

Underneath my hand,

The cold dewy feeling of grass,

Beneath my feet,

The rustle of the leaves,

As the wind breaths slowly and wistfully through them,

 

The mystic and distant ring of a church bell,

As it rings the half hour,

The shrill repeated call and response of the birds,

As they cry to each other,

The clicking siren of the mysterious cicada,

The spontaneous music of the cricket,

 

The sounds of nature’s beauty ring endlessly through my ears,

Making a choir, a chorus or a symphony,

As if I were conducting it all,

Making a charming piece of music at a lulling tone,

With no lone notes out of tune or off beat,

As if the were soldiers lined up in a streak,

This chorus is endless,

Getting a boost every stanza,

Nevermore halting for a breath,

Not even for a sole noiseless moment,

Never at rest,

Never concluded,

Never off beat,

Always in a straight line,

My chorus is never over.

 

 

By: Emily