Terra’s voice, the only sound that matters
Gentle zephyrs rustle the dainty leaves
Brushing the light fronds in spacious scatters
Breeze to gale, faunas hide in taiga sleeves
Unsettled ballads of the lark resounds
Roaring aloft and below, it draws nigh
Grave cloaks of shadow conceal the still grounds
Sonorous winds commence to lull and shy
Drops of rain fall from the billow above
Churning the placid slough in soft ripples
Caught in the solace of earth’s warming glove
Dew adhered to webs, a careful stipple

Evincing reverence, stilling all chatters
Nature’s choir, the only sound that matters