The joy of music is always known in
People’s hearts even if they cannot hear
They can feel it, the gentle vibrations
Soothe our troubled minds in moments
Of silence, waves lull us into dreams
As the golden sounds warms our body
Floating in the zephyr like breezes
Sends us traveling towards the haven
Where everyone dances with such silkiness,
The energy of their merged souls flows
Like waterfall crescendos at springtime’s
Thaw, sotto voce whispers along the
Hidden faeries in mists, secrets ready
To be unearthed only if the lilies will
Divulge their chorale to chosen ones,
Giving way to the majestic season’s
Virtuoso playing the song of solace,
The streams rush at full speed eroding
Rocks and bringing along sounds of
Bellicoso, trees standing still in sultry
Puddles while Willows plunks out,
Green and hungry for the fresh water
To soothe its burned roots, waiting
All day in the scorching blaze only
To find peace and cooling when the
Ball of fire hits the horizon, like doloroso
It brings the rose-colored dusk as
Quilt covering the earth when it is
Ready to slumber; the evening skies
Boasts the dance of sparkles with
Humming insects avoiding the hunt
By the night’s creatures… time goes
By as it brings the softer days of warmth
And the crisp mornings where dew
And mist creeps all over the valley,
The harvest moon howls for it knows
Of the fermata that will usher in the
Dreaded old man winter, sending
Animals scurrying to store ripening
Foods for the cruel chill, the one that rips
Apart souls with golden and crimson hued
Foliage, leaving fallen bodies in its wake
Mystical creatures knows the secrets
And the songs of perdendosi that
Will come soon, to bring a grand
Suffering to all; life as we know it
Will expire within the waning crescent
And the land is shrouded in colorless
Emotions as it heralds the next
Season’s segue,
Quietness cloaks the land in
Stillness, notes echoes in despair
Because there is no one dancing
Everything is empty and wailing
For the release from harsh cold
Hope falters in moments of old
Man winter’s specters lurking
Around, solemn in their passions
The season spiritedly falls in the
Vortex of fantasy, awaiting the
Spring’s sonata to commence.
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