Song of the Forest
I hear the forest singing as I meander through the still, familiar grove
The wind-rustled leaves rise in a flurry and dance among the tangled brush
The cheerily chirping songbird carelessly flits among twisted, ancient trees
The woodpecker pecking and tapping, drilling into the soft bark of the cedar
The scurry of a chipmunk up a tall oak, the squirrel gnawing on a fallen walnut
The drone of winged insects darting aimlessly to and fro in beams of light that filter through a canopy of leaves
The creaking groans of trees, bending as gusts blow through their highest boughs
The far-off calls of a wild turkey, the soft bounding of a fawn in the tall grass
The bees buzzing lazily between the delicate blooms of the vibrant flowers
The gurgling babble of a cool, clear brook cascading over a multitude of smoothed stones
The sonorous croaks of a chorus of toads, their deep, slow voices resounding through the quivering air
Each sings his song, blissfully unaware of his part in nature's harmony