Suspended from a tree,
Puffs some tiny tickles there
To peal tranquility
For ears that listen anxiously
In golden morning light,
To endless melodies composed
In breezy, playful bites--
Notes that thrill with every rush
Soon crushed by mallet dare;
And dying, emend new tones
Coined by the pensive air.
The dog next door is also struck
By that which fills the air;
His canine sense knows when to sing,
So brings his voice to bear.
Breaths on resin-scented air
Discover wood supplies
Cathedral ambience for all—
The chimes, the dog, tree sighs.
I scramble to record the sphere
As gentle shadows wave,
In windblown glory words now spread
Across the dappled page.
Suddenly the wind abates,
The flourishes are hushed;
The ink dries at “Finale”,
The hillside silent, brushed.
Copyright 2007 Jim Ross
recommend this
email
print
link to this page
Comments: 34
My pleasure, JoAnne.
Thank you for the Sunday morning smile, Ed. I appreciate it.
Autumn colors waving bright in the wind
Eventually the leaves begin to fall
After winter new life comes.
- Robert B.
Thank you for the compliment, Robert. It's appreciated.
Thank you for the smile, Marianne. It is deeply appreciated.
Just love the way you create the atmosphere of contemplation, bringing sound, smell, touch and a beautiful resin scented scene to enact out this chiming poem.
Sitting alone and watching all this take place...such a restful, peaceful, sighing-in-pleasure poem, Jim!