A Cold Symphony
Body shivers as the wind blows cold,
Icy fingers won’t release their hold,
Shoulders hunch and fingers go numb,
Sound of the wind through the trees is a hum,
Seed like a fairy catches your eye,
Unsure as a fledging, learning to fly,
Rustle of dry leaves is the beat of the drum,
Sure of the rhythm, they dance as they come,
Green leaves on the trees, turning red as the soon,
Autumnal leaves, a sight second to none,
The scrape of the leaves are the strings of the sound,
The melody strong as their roots in the ground,
The twitter of birds proves a tune of its own,
Yet the language they speak is a language unknown,
Clouds overhead, filled with the rain and the snow,
Battling the wind, losing blow-by-blow,
Saplings are swaying, so drunk on the song,
For now they are sure of just where they belong,
All of this nature, both melody and tune,
As strong as the sun beating down on the dune,
The music can bring both happiness and tears,
Opening the eyes and the heart of who hears.
This poem was inspired when I was sitting outside on a very cold day and all I could hear were the sounds described in the poem.
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