A Reprint from January '09

Everything has its own song.

Josef von Eichendorff

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I hear the music of creation.
I hear the sounds of nature.
I hear the songs of life.
I hear the vigorously loud and the beautifully silent.
I hear the rolling tympani of thunder, the cymbal crash of lightening, the snare drum of rain on the window and the sweet celesta of falling snow upon my cheek.
I hear the adagio of the drifting clouds, the harp notes of sunshine and the oboe song of the moon.
I hear the trumpet calls from the mountain tops, the trombones in the forest and the gentle horn upon the surface of the lake.
I hear the flute tones of the humble pebbles on the beach, the whisper of the sand and the parade of marching bands as the tides come in.
I hear the choir of autumn colors, the sopranos in their nests in spring,
I hear the largo of the growing flowers and the presto of the squirrels.
I hear the siren song of stars and the humming along the garden path.
I hear the bubbling madrigal of children on their way to school.
I hear the opera of the busy city streets.
I hear the strings that sing of love and friendship, of hope and faith.
I hear the sounds of nature.
I hear the music of creation.
I hear the symphony of life,

"And all the trees of the field shall clap their hands."
Isaiah 55:12


DB