The Singing Tree

The sun just rising on the horizon 
infuses the schoolyard in light,
earth tones, amber and umber, under feet-
bright greens of blade and leaf
stand in stark contrast

I pause mid-stride
as I overhear the tinkling voice of bells
dancing in midair

I gaze up into the canopy,
amid the millions of seeds ready to fall-
flitting from branch to branch
I see hundreds of moving bells
filling the air with syncopated rhythms-
like a carnival calliope

High trills, low chirrups, 
and constant chip, chirp, chiroo
flashing color - yellow, green and blue
dangling ornaments hang in uneven rows

moving about, 
as if swatted by a playful kitten,
into clumps of jeweled sound

at times the entire collection lifts off 
swirls as snow and lightly settles back in place
I lift with them to heights brand new
my burdens carry on a song- never to return

My step more peaceful, 
my heart fills with joy
the sun, song and serenity stay
this morning I heard the tree sing

Quiet

The air so still that nothing can be heard
the blackest abyss of a moonless night
low thick clouds as a shroud 
lay deep against the mountain
the valley in solemn stillness

In such a time when all is dull and flat
my fine-tuned sense of hearing
searches for meaning, desperately seeking input
I start to hear the beating of my own heart
feel the air pressing lightly on my skin
a foreboding feeling of utter solitude climbs
only to be pushed back by deep introspective thought

A reaching upward, outward
connecting with my own power
a real companionship with myself
I am enlivened and spread my feeble light
gradually intensifying into sparks, streams and wonder
now released from the immensity of quiet

I am safe with myself
untouched by external forces
I groan in delight 
filling the silent expanse with me