I am cocooned in a symphony of sound.
Each melody, specific,
Each accent, amplifed.
~
In the distance, a train’s engine rumbles
as it clatters along the tracks,
a low, mournful horn song drifts on the
dense morning air.
~
Every bird song is distinct –
Twitters and squeaks
Chatters and winnows
Some percussive
Others rhythmic:
A dawn chorus.
The clouds push it down to my waiting ears,
rather than allowing it to escape upwards.
~
The farm is my chamber
for a musical festival
where I am surrounded,
Delighted.
~
I shiver and smile
and pull my jacket close around me
the mist falling across my face.
The cottonwood in the distance
a ghost,
black and skeletal.