We were staying in a cabin in the woods and I had never lived in the woods before. During that first trip I sat in a cedar rocking chair on the porch listening and this is what I heard:
Cock-a-doodle-do
squawks the oboe
playing rooster
in prelude to
a rising morning sun.
At symphony's center
woodland critters play
weaving sounds
in rhythmic pattern
of tinted harmony.
The conductor stands
to the side with
hands held behind as
baton loosely swings as
fingers slowly drum.
Chirping chirps
the piccolo birds
hum humorous notes
no note in minor key.
A big honker honks
to others across the way
French horns tuning
in fun filled fray.
Heard on the left and to the back
percussion impacts
the woodpecker pecks.
Horses trumpet from nearby corral
calls of whinnies and snorts
a stanza of fits and starts.
Cows bassoon their moos
in harmonic key crafting
multiples of musical interludes.
Symphony saturates each morning moment
measure by measure the melody happens
in promise to sing throughout the day and
soothe with vespers at Evensong.
All quietly soft
the light of the score
we sleep in the indigo night
of northern Arkansas.
http://www.wordlayers.com/woodland.htm
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