January 19, 2008
On a branch on a tree in the forest,
The songbird shuffles on its branch.
Leaves shake.
The songbird raises his head and eyes the horizon.
All is still.
He opens his mouth and lets out a sweet melody.
The trees are listening.
The melody stops,
The songbird watches.
Two animals scamper into the forest.
A small bundle of soft, brown fur scurries across the forest floor.
His swift stalker is now chasing him, gleaming eyes fastened on the meal.
Rabbit and fox race around the clearing, darting this way and that.
They run out of the clearing and into the trees.
Tiny feet are heard throughout the forest, and then are cut short.
Cold silence rests in the forest.
A brightly coloured orange fox wanders out into the clearing alone.
He stops to lick his paw, and pauses.
The orange head looks up into the tree, onto the branch,
Onto the small bird out of reach.
The beady black eyes of the fox blink.
Then the head lowers and leads the body out of the cold silence of the forest.
There is peace once again.
The trees listen.
The forest stills.
And then
On a branch on a tree in the forest,
A songbird opens his mouth
And lets out a sweet melody.

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