Can you hear them? The tinkling of piano keys whispered on the air like so many bird songs?
The sounds are of peaceful contemplation, serene caresses to the ears that play upon the skin with chills.
First seen in audible things are the tappity-tap of insect legs carrying minuscule behemoths to and fro, this way and that, here and there. Listen closely and you can feel the ground rumble beneath their tiny legs.
But o’erpowering such earthmovers are the flaps of e’er so many wings upon the air. Flitting about with joyous abandon, a plethora of avian friends visit in brief images captured between blinks.
Offered in flight, from atop the roofs, within and amongst branches and leaves, they call out with voices so varied as to shame an encyclopedia. I do wish they would teach me to speak.
Quietly, still as a statue upon a pedestal, chimes in the guise of the heartbeat of a rabbit waft upon cool air. Longing to remain unseen yet aware of its exposure, my eyes listen as it dashes effortlessly across grass wet with morning dew. Perchance I can hop to the beat of its pitter-patter.
While I watch, suddenly ears hungry for nourishment rest their gaze on the timbre of profound hues writ upon scaled wings. A butterfly of magnificent colors floats by carried with great awe by respectful wind. And my tongue trembles in delight with the tickle of its description.
Afar in the distance, yet still so near to me that I can feel it, my soul brushes against the red fox darting in and out of verdant camouflage, its eyes consuming the world in brief glimpses and powerful stares. I see it, yes, but more importantly, I share in its journey.
Beating like the drum of life, powerfully the waves crash against rock and shore, the gentle spray lifted to heights I dare not reach, and in its excitement it adds its profound voice to an overwhelming chorus.
Can you hear these things? If you really listen with me, perhaps you will.