Woodland Symphony

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

A tango's turn

Within the thunder
of the beginning of all things
color struck
and again came more
on top of the first
that dropped to the
bottom
echoing the slide
to the middle
wherein lived word
lit from letters
that introduced color's
beauty and blessing and art
from which raindrops fell
like sounds of bells
and between here and there
music merged
though unknown in this place
even so it was heard
in note and harmony
in time and rhythm.

Color and Word and Music
moved around each other
into and out of
shadows
blending and bobbing
between spaces
becoming movement
inviting dance
underscored in poetry and
hummed into tune
as strangers swooned

and swayed and
within a tango's turn
stirred love
the necessary
ingredient
within the thunder
of the beginning
of all things