Cottonwoods whispering good morning to the clouds
Blades of Bermuda waving bye to the butterflies
Incoming—sparrows at 90 degrees
Man attempts to mimic nature’s melodies
The ting-a-ling of a triangle
The bellowing of a bass drum
The bell choir echo
But none can match
The breeze clapping with the hickory leaves
Or the croak of the bull frog tuba
The tick-a-tick of the cicada percussionists
And the tap…tap…tap from the woodpecker snare drum
Nor the goose trumpeting in flight …
No, none can match
Not even the rest in the firefly blink.

This entry was posted on Sunday, March 14th, 2010 at 9:12 am and is filed under Columns, Feature, Words of Joy. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. - Little Axe Ledger -