Geese @ the Riverwalk in Rock Hill. Image is my own.

the woods, most would say,
are quiet
but I know different
for I have heard the song of the forest

in stillness I sit
perched on the edge of a steaming river
the soft words of geese reach my ears
over the slow, constant babble
of the water’s passage

dew collects on fading leaves
drops into the brush below
joining with the sounds of birds and squirrels
searching the forest floor
for nuts and berries to stock their winter stores

morning’s light
stirs wildlife to sing and call
their voices creating
a breathtaking cacophony
the music of Nature given life

Written in response to this week’s challenge at Velvet Verbosity, which gives us ‘listening’ as our prompt for the week. I found that this poem also easily fit New World Creative Union’s Wednesday Wakeup Call.

Also linked up at With Real Toad’s Open Link Monday, and to d’Verse’s Open Link Night. Come on by and check out the other amazing poets and writers!

“Blackbirds Singing at the Break of Day”

in the beginning

something ensued

a peculiar assemblage of crows

in the beginning

there, behind the bungalow

within the avian’s demesne

I saw them

in the beginning

the dalliance was furtive

myriad figures, erstwhile lovers


between branches

in the beginning

the morning air

redolent with the scent of earth

and rain

dawn’s breath caressing

a susurrus ripple of sound

in the beginning

their play

evanescent, ephemeral

their voices

cacophonous, evocative of pleasure

of delight

eloquence in their effervescent call

Inspired by the rather timely presence of a flock of blackbirds in the trees behind my house, a common occurrence that never fails to delight me though many might find their song noisy and annoying.  Shared with the wonderful folks at Sunday Scribblings #319, who encouraged us to use the phrase ‘in the beginning’ and also with Rosemary Mint’s Monday Melting, which gave us 100 beautiful words to choose from. I’ve italicized the ones I nabbed. Took out the italics, ’cause Shawna’s right, they’re distracting.


“Flower Dance”

standing beneath the verdant willow
vibrant crimson thistle, opalescent blooms
of brightly hued tulips dot the landscape before me
onyx stones wrapped in ivy surrounding the land

music spawns, a lyric contralto
drawing me to dance, every sinew stretching
releasing me from numbness
I explore the lore of dreaming

Written in response to Wednesday Wake-up Call and Midweek Melting.