I slept last night to a Bull Frog Serenade.
Their wet-green melody mixed with the sound of softly falling rain
Splattering on my tent by the edge of a mist-surfaced pond.
I slept last night to a Bull Frog Serenade.
In the distance I could hear the crackling wood-song
Of a fire burning gently through the night.
I slept last night to a Bull Frog Serenade
While night warbler notes drifted slowly down with the rain drops
From the tree tops high above.
I slept last night to a Bull Frog Serenade.
Mixed with the far-away sounds of late night revelers,
Borne by the night breeze as it spilled down the hillside to where I lay.
When I awoke in the morning the pond songs were silent.
The bull frogs, wood nymphs, warblers and rain gods were gone.
Perhaps now is their time to sleep.
I wonder if their sleep will be as sweet as mine?
Does the melody of man’s mechanizations
Sound as soothing to them,
As the songs of nature’s creations does me?
Somehow,
I doubt it.
Serenade Number Two
Pond frogs and sunlit waters,
Sharing a parcel of space
and a moment in time,
In the shade of summer shadows
With a rider who happened by,
purely by accident.
With no particular place to be,
Or Palace to keep,
It seemed like the perfect place
To while away an afternoon.
To watch, to listen, and recharge.
To simply sit and absorb.
As he sat, he soon forgot
Where he had come from,
Where he was headed,
Or even,
Why he had ridden this way
And not some other.
He was here now
And that was all that mattered,
so he stopped pondering why.
As the waters of the lake spoke;
He sat and listened
to its wet, liquid tale.
A story told in moist frog tongues,
And green grass wind whispers
and now he understood the why.
His mind rode the wind
Yet his body remained motionless
as he became evermore aware.
Watching the air borne whiteness
Reflected on a surface
painted by the sky.
He rested, braced by dark wood,
On a seat of moss
earth cooled and fragrant.
His machine waited behind him
Silent now and unmoving,
while his soul raced ever on.
Down roads remembered
And others still unknown.
yet, somehow, remembered.
As I looked back
From his reflection upon the lake
he seemed somehow familiar,
But older than I remembered.
From our shared reaction, I sensed
He felt the same about me.
When he finally rose to leave
He left me behind,
A reflection afloat
On the blue-sky surface;
Silent, serene and,
Alone.
Serenade Number One