by Janet E Hunt
Tuesday, April 16, 2002
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The night breezed through my open bedroom window
Cooling away the heat from the day
The owls called each other from afar
Waiting for the right time to be together
And then, as I sat working
I heard a soft, familiar sound
Coming from the room next door
It made me stop what I was doing
As if I'd just walked outdoors to the soft scent of a spring rain
And cleansed my every sense
I closed my eyes and bathed in the sweetness of the music
And soft melody...
On and on she played
Following a tune
Which became the accompaniment to the owls hooting
And to the peepers peeping
...To the breeze coming through my open window
My Eliza Rose..
Sweetly playing her harmonica...
Ah, I smiled...
As the beauty of the fresh sound drifted through the night breeze.
And then, if all this were not enough to ease my very soul,
The encore was the first call of the season - the return of the loon, as if he too,
Caught the blend of spring and the