Oh to capture Nature’s eternal grandeur.
Alright… I’m cheating; this is neither prose nor poetry and I didn’t compose it. But beauty inspires me and Traubeck’s music— created by playing cross-sections of different species of trees on a “record player”— is absolutely beautiful. My favorite’s Oak.
Behold— the greatest show on Earth!
Every symphony starts with silence.
Then, with a faint tap, a drop of the dew, a heartbeat—
Daffodil murmurs speckle the spring breeze,
carried by papaya sunsets and falsetto bees
through the clarion call of summer with the
sweltering heat and bass bellows of long mornings
and short evenings within nature’s living sound.
Scarcely a blink has passed before the musicians
rearrange themselves for the spectacular scarlet
melody of falling leaves that flutter and trill
like birds and like flutes over the bubbling of streams.
Then moonlight-caressed whispers take the stage
as the ice queen bounds and leaps with the
uniqueness of snowflakes in her hands; she does not sing
of human things and mortality, her night-kissed fur face
stretches the seven seas and ends in heaven,
where the snow is warm to the touch.
And thus progresses the first movement
of the greatest symphony known to man
and, by God, the show is free.
My phone has a remarkable habit: taking grainy pictures of beautiful things.
Tread softly by the waters,
All who dare to enter
There’s a city in the shadows
Of the lake
Hush, hush, footfalls of mine
The clouds are sleeping tight
In their watery bed
Tonight
Kneeling at the shore,
Skimming fingers over blue,
Baptism of the mind
Paradise in lieu
As I watch the ripples spread
I feel the hope arise
That I dream of crystal waters
And cotton candy skies
This poem was written from Artist’s Point- 7,600 feet in the air!
Once upon a time, far far away, a Girl gazed down the slope at midday….
The trees became women donning green dresses,
To the tune of the wind- how they danced!
Sunlight filtered through their emerald tresses,
Upon a mountain masquerade had She chanced.
And as the Girl watched in quaint human wonder
The winding river joined in the song,
In the distance she heard rolling thunder
Or had it been there all along?
The primeval blue snake reared its head up and hissed
Its voice brought back memories unmade
Things she had never yet seen she now missed
As she watched the glimmering fade.
Flowery kisses blown by ladies of pine,
Petals drifting through crags of old,
Don’t worry, they sang her, sundown is still fine-
With every night a new story be told.
And so the Girl knew she had fallen in love
With rivers low and mountains steep,
Her eyes twinkled like the stars above
Smiling long after the sun went to sleep.
One by one, the soft padding of paws
Were assigned quiet, night-kissed fur faces
As her eyes traced their bright eyes to their jaws
They stole away to hidden places
Alas, night in nature is not the one that man knows,
For not dead is it, but very alive!
And this is the night that our little Girl chose,
So that her spirit may truly thrive.
For it is the night that gives, never takes,
That falls vast over fields and fountains.
And come the next day when the sun again wakes-
The eternal waltz of the mountains.
literarydoodles 