The trickle of a river fluidly weaving through worn rocks,
Clashing with the harmonious melody of joyful birds,
Chests puffed out in prideful, arrogant gestures.
An orchestra of leaves, left dancing with a calm breeze that brushes through the small gaps between each harlequin leaf;
A baffling swirl of orange, green, red, and brown.
The vibrant sound of teardrops from the sky,
Pattering on a bucket:
Never used, forgotten, and rusted.
The cry of an eagle,
The crunch of dead leaves as a deer hops lightly…
All awaiting to be turned into an unforgettable masterpiece.
Waves crash!
Geese blare,
A bird sings.
Ice pound out a rhythm; cold and unyielding.
Nature, their master.
All control yields to an invisible force.
Yet, it is powerful.
With a swish of an indiscernible grand hand,
The leaves will tinkle.
With the snap of another,
The Earth will rumble.
Like an empty palette,
It calls for attention,
For need, and want.
For desire, and vainness.
This symphony of colors and sounds cannot stand to be vacant;
Preferring to let heavens crash in,
To let the world seem like it is tearing apart in a slow crescendo
Of beauty, love, surprise…
And joy.
This indescribable complexion of the Earth is tinted by all hues,
Accompanied by an orchestra,
A band!
Never is it barren, or mute.
It’s beautiful...no exquisite and unique.
The splitting pain that blossoms when hearing this concerto,
Is not made from agony.
Or anger.
The pain.
Oh, the pain!
It is a wondrous composition of joy and pride
That bursts like fireworks in the chest.
Nature’s rapturous song is missing one thing…
You.