The silver sound is all around...
Up to the present now, here's something I wrote this evening. When was the last time you took a break from life, caught your imagination by the hand, and lost yourselves in the beautiful world around you? I think I do it a little too often.
Lately the brilliant view of the Autumn-clad world just outside my window has been distracting me from homework. Trees and plants are arraying themselves in their most vibrant colors, as if to give one final burst of beauty before settling down for the cold winter. Leaves gently batter the ground, sometimes joined in their work by a playful rain. The brisk wind dances with a lonely willow tree, twirling the slim yellow leaves and swaying the elegant branches. Grape vineyards, in rusty hues, surround a field of damp green grass like a scarlet cloak. More often than not, my glance outdoors is turned into a long, blissful gaze as I am lured away by the stories I can almost hear about a world I can almost touch.
Flocks of starlings, feasting in the vineyards, fill the chill air with merry singing. If you listen closely, you can hear the stories they tell each other: stories of the feel of the crisp, rain-washed air against their soft dark feathers, stories of the warm, dry nest they have built to keep them safe through the winter, stories of the far off places they have seen and long to return to. Occasionally, their thoughts and dreams fill their hearts and pulse through their veins, and unable and unwilling to control the surge of joy, they rise up into the air in a great tide of feathers and song. The singing reaches it’s peak of joy and beauty as the birds glide through an intricate dance, and slowly subsides as they return to the earth below. The gentle hum of falling leaves creates a sweet harmony to the melody the birds sing. They whisper to each other of the mysteries of their silent lives, of the happiness they felt in the green youthfulness of spring, of their contentedness in the warmth of summer, and of their old age and their dreams of flying. These reveries are confessed with peaceful sighs and murmurs, almost inaudible to the human ear. Swirling around and throughout all this is the voice of the wind, sometimes a raging shout, sometimes a soothing lullaby. It declares it’s power and force, and then reminds the world of it’s loving caress, all the while breathing secrets of the far reaches of the world and the deep unknown places of the sky.
And sometimes, if you listen very long and very close, and close your eyes and open your mind, you can hear something somewhere out there call your name, and if you’re willing to take a step or two forward, you might be swept away to a world more beautiful than you could ever imagine...
Flocks of starlings, feasting in the vineyards, fill the chill air with merry singing. If you listen closely, you can hear the stories they tell each other: stories of the feel of the crisp, rain-washed air against their soft dark feathers, stories of the warm, dry nest they have built to keep them safe through the winter, stories of the far off places they have seen and long to return to. Occasionally, their thoughts and dreams fill their hearts and pulse through their veins, and unable and unwilling to control the surge of joy, they rise up into the air in a great tide of feathers and song. The singing reaches it’s peak of joy and beauty as the birds glide through an intricate dance, and slowly subsides as they return to the earth below. The gentle hum of falling leaves creates a sweet harmony to the melody the birds sing. They whisper to each other of the mysteries of their silent lives, of the happiness they felt in the green youthfulness of spring, of their contentedness in the warmth of summer, and of their old age and their dreams of flying. These reveries are confessed with peaceful sighs and murmurs, almost inaudible to the human ear. Swirling around and throughout all this is the voice of the wind, sometimes a raging shout, sometimes a soothing lullaby. It declares it’s power and force, and then reminds the world of it’s loving caress, all the while breathing secrets of the far reaches of the world and the deep unknown places of the sky.
And sometimes, if you listen very long and very close, and close your eyes and open your mind, you can hear something somewhere out there call your name, and if you’re willing to take a step or two forward, you might be swept away to a world more beautiful than you could ever imagine...
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