... just to sit and listen, how wonderful
How is it not possible to listen to the symphony of the sound coming from the singing leaves?
How impossible not to look at the dance, the movement as the breeze moves the leaves to a tango, and then a waltz, and then it is still.
The sun is warm and in full bloom and the sky an unimaginable blue.
The daisies by the fireplace move silently to the music; their heads bobbing to the breeze and then it is once more quiet.
The loons are resting and the lake flows gently, slowly westward. The buzz of the occasional fly and the soft sound of the goldfinch at the feeders are the only background noise.
My book hangs on the arm of the chair for the story and sights of the symphony keep me looking outward and upwards; waiting for the next chorus of the wind.
How not to look? How not to listen? And why not?
July 1, 2016