Night Symphony

February 12, 2009
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The wind whispers through the great oak trees,
they dance as the wind billows about them,
they dance to the music of the soft mournful tune,
of the night symphony.

The wind whips against stumps
that lay broken on the forest floor,
forgotten.
The owls come out of hiding,
and sing their sweet, mournful tune.

The animals rustle in the blanket of leaves,
that covers the forest floor.
The players keep time,
to the twinkling stars.

The sun comes up,
and the players fall
SILENT.





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