August Concerto
Orchestral sounds
from August fields,
droning choirs of
creatures small,
of crickets in the
rite of passion,
laying down a tone
for a concerto,
the calling for an
upcoming theme,
an overlaying of
melodic lines,
a blending of
cries and echoes,
a prelude to the
sounds of the birds
from their
lofted orchestral pits,
their nocturnal and
diurnal hymns,
night into day into
night into day,
the unassuming sophistication
that builds from
the August fields,
the droning, the blending,
the bending, the resonance,
the refining, the music,
Mother Nature’s swan song
before the whistling of the
frigid winds between
the naked branches
of the naked trees
of winter,
an August concerto
composed by creatures
small and smaller,
nature’s unassuming
orchestral members.
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