Winter has lessened the volume,
For mute are the songs from the birds,
And quiet are crickets and frogs…
And thusly, I find I turn inward.
At times hear the icicles dripping,
As sunshine brings long spikes to cry;
I ask, where has gone nature’s music…
Why joy in her song said goodbye?
A leaf the snow left uncovered,
Be heard to groan beneath feet,
As if it awaits resurrection…
That will show in its death, not defeat.
I long for the music I’ll hear,
When songbirds again take to air,
Sing out their praises of sunshine…
Wildflowers they see in girl’s hair.
Wind rustling through trees will be heard,
We’ll hear pitter patter of rain,
Nature’s music, again, fill the air…
The song in their hearts can’t refrain.
Our noses be seen drawing air,
As sweet honeysuckle gives scent,
We’ll hear Mother Nature’s voice ring…
Rejoice to this happy event.
For now, the winter has muted,
The snow lets us hear not a sound,
Except, perhaps, when it’s crusted…
Take notice of noise on the ground.
Trees have no leaves to hear rustle,
The branches stay silently mute,
And I, in cocoon, draw within…
The absence of music…acute.
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