The forest speaks to all who listen there
Calliope of scattered birds take flight
The treetops sway in time with swirling leaves
The wind shakes down the nuts that bounce off bark
And adds a note to Autumn’s final song
The tapping rain percussion plays a tune
With creak of chestnut’s rotted branches fall
A crunch of leaves as doe and fawn walk on
The howling wind pulls at my heart and mind
To pay attention to the forest’s tune
Amid the melody and harmony
There moans the ancient pine that calls my name
I was hiking in the woods with Sparky and my friend saintvi. The wind was blowing so hard that the trees appeared to be performing some sort of ecstatic dance. The tall pines were especially in motion. They didn’t just sway. They were swirling and sweeping then bending in a cambré not unlike ballet dancers. They were singing as they moved. It was an eerie creaking and grinding sound. At first the only thing I could hear was the fierce wind. Once we were in the trees there was a sense of silence that was soon replaced by the appreciation of the sounds of the trees and leaves. When was the last time you really listened to the world around you?
This is blank verse – a poem with unrhymed lines written in iambic pentameter, that is 10 syllables with the even numbered syllables bearing the accent.