The Ballad of Dorothy Parker

mswilsonseesit:

I

The mockingbird strikes up

a note that echoes over

the quiet glen.

Awakened, the sparrow puffs

his feathers in agitation;

but soon he’s hypnotized by

the melody that hangs in the air

like the dew on the leaves.

He joins his brother,

and soon there is

a symphony of

two.

The sparrow inspires the

finch, and the finch the thrush.

The chickadee flitters about,

its voice echoing above the others.

Soon the dawn is accompanied

by a symphony

of song.

II

High noon brings

the jay

and the wren.

The soft sound of leaves

falling add a soothing

note to the chorus.

Their colors paint the floor;

the oranges, yellows

and reds splatter the

brown, dead canvas.

Somehow,

it brings vibrancy.

III

The sun sinks below

the clouds, casting a shadow.

The other musicians have

polished and put away their

instruments, preparing

to rest for tomorrow’s performance.

Ah, but for one musician

it is just

beginning.

The nightingale has

the stage.

Her soft, haunting sound

echoes over the shadowed

wood. The trees shiver,

allowing more colors

to fall to the canvas

below.

Soon, night takes a

hold of the wood;

the soft songs

fade as the moon

rises.

The last of the

autumn sonata

has played.

© Lauren E. Wilson