Spring Ballad

Listening this morning
as the rain hits the grass;
as the birds twitter and chat
back and forth to each other.

I listen to the sound of the squirrels
scolding
mankind and fowl and beast.

The orchestra of the birds
with the catcall of the Whippoorwill,
the melodic song of the Robin,
and the bright and beautiful song of the cardinal.
What a magical tune,
wafting through the morning air.

The smell of the rain
and wet grass.

The grey, overcast sky.
Singing it's tune of melancholy,
but yet
there is renewal, rebirth, resurgence
in its soggy song.

Today I listen
to the choir of the season
and the orchestra of its occupants.

Experiencing the open-window morning.
The cool breeze.
The songs of the birds
and the counter-chatter of the squirrels.
Damp.
Soft.
Spring.