by Beth Fender
Over there, a symphony of harmony and calm;
Gentle hills humming their morning madrigals
To smiling Spring. Soon, the lifting sun
Clangs out with strident, startling power
The clashing chords of nature’s mystery.
Cottage windows glow with kindled fire,
Reflected from the cymbals of the god,
While wisps of morning mists dissolve and fade
In trailing melodies of lilting light.
The Chevin’s overture to day has just begun.
Below my window, wake the garden plots
In tones and semi-tones of dappled light,
To raise a round of yellows, blues and whites.
Scents of earth, grass and flowers rise
To blend their tunes with thrushes quavering
From wall and chimney-pot. A blackbird sings
Through chilly, quivering air, in throbbing cadences.
So plays an orchestra of pure delight,
Bringing to me, in my small cottage room,
Permeating chords of love and joy.