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The Nightingale
May 26, 2016
Isn’t it funny how silence can be so terribly loud at times?
The melody that pierces through its thickness is one of sweet reprieve.
Her delicate song floats down from the branches.
It’s quiet, but strong-it gives me hope.
The crescendo builds, it gets louder and louder, shattering the silence.
The songstress of the night.
The whistles and trills fly on the backs of the rich notes.
Dawn is coming.
The song stays steady, never breaking it’s cadence.
Faintly in the distance, I hear an answer back.
This one is different, but every bit as beautiful.
There is a pause.
Cautiously, the two begin again, this time together.
© Meg B., Blairstown, NJ
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