Songs of the Universe

May 27, 2009
By Ben Aerts BRONZE, Baraboo, Wisconsin
Ben Aerts BRONZE, Baraboo, Wisconsin
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

The unseen conductor
Lifts his fiery baton
And with one silent stroke,
A new symphony begins
With the morning light.

Like Brahm's lullaby,
The music starts oft and slow.
Each player waiting
For their cue.

A single small finch
Chirping like a piccolo
Begins the day's music
With a wistful tune.

The crickets in the valley,
In dawn's earliest light,
Still think it is night
And rub their violin-string wings.

Playing accompaniment
Are the tall guitar string grasses
That have been awakened
By the strumming
Of the breeze.

A circling red tailed hawk
Punctuates the air
With staccato trumpet like blasts
While a mother rabbit
Squeaks out a penny whistle warning
To her little ones.

An old raccoon hound in the distance
Lets out baritone saxophone bellows
Only to be answered by a wind chime
Giving up its whispered bell tones,
Ping, pong, ping,
To the growing wind.

Garbage men at the curb
Crash, crash, crashing
Cymbal can lids
Sounding an alarm
That says to wake up
And become part
Of the melody.

The music turns angry.
Clouds color the mood.
Gong crashing lightning.
Rolling thunder timpani.
A prelude to the cascading marimba notes
Of rain on the roof.

Car tires rolling on wet, black pavement
Whine a lonely cello melody
While windshield wipers
slap, slap, slap,
keep a metronome beat.

A radio blares.
A Stratocaster squeals.
A raspy voiced singer
Wails the blues.

Turn off the radio.
The music never ends.
Quiet the cars.
The music never ends.
Silence nature.
The music never ends.

Like food for the soul,
It is the blood
That courses through
The veins
Of the universe,
Bringing its life affirming oxygen
To enrich
The heart of mankind.

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