Nature’s music is never over; her silences are pauses, not conclusions. Mary Webb
Silver waters lilt deep green melodies
trees sing endlessly to the stars, release
these sweet notes to apprentices of dawn
like me. Vibrating barefoot on the lawn
inebriated by this morning wine,
called back to earth from tangled dreams, unwind
making adjustments as ancient airs chime.
Two vultures harmonize in currents, climb
and soar. The symphony in frequencies perceived
by beings in a subtler range relieve
the tensions I carry while bluffing, feign
the constant chaos simply doesn’t faze.
I’m dropping dissonance pretensions, sigh
as musical phrases loop and then fly
out to yon glimmering receptive lake
and full of morning song soothe my heartache.