Saturday, July 2, 2016

The Hills Alive



Music audible and imagined, clouds of many faces, ever changing, the dynamics of harmony.


Painting and Poem by Dr Abe V Rotor
 
                                                                     The Hills are Alive AVR 2011

I hear the breeze in the trees like melody of the pipe,
        and the cadence of the clarinet,
Downstream the rolling, rumbling of snare drums, 
        stones clicking like castanet.

Sweet violins I hear from cicadas on the treetops,
        while robins sing in their nest; 
Distant thunder rolls like muffled bass and gong,
        frogs boom with their breast.

I imagine the sound of the butterfly gathering nectar,
        each flower a melody;
I imagine the clouds making faces, ever changing,
        the dynamics of harmony.  

Music audible and imagined makes the hills alive,
       an orchestra in its prime;
Ephemeral each note like the wind passing by,  
       touching the spirit sublime. ~

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