Quietly
by Kenneth Green
Quietly
I lie here - gazing at silhouettes painted against a clear iridescent sky - listening to the tranquil sounds of music only mother nature in her own habitat can create. In the distance I see a breath taking array of lights, each with a character all it's own - spread across the sky like diamonds careless cast down on a floor of blue ice. Beyond this I can faintly vision soft cotton like clouds in various colors ranging from snow white to the darkest of blues, anything beyond this would be a fabrication of my mind. I hear in natures music the lscratchy leg-rubbing sound of a soprano, the cricketing sound of an alto, the hooting sound of a trnor, the croaking sound of a bass. Together they create a symphony most humans listen to but never really hear, just as the never hear the wind rustling through the trees - scattering things about, as if to say in a whisper " nothing stands still, it's time to move own". Man in his infinite wisdom could never match the timeless beauty of nature.