HARMONIES
Waves of field sparrows
flood the lake's green edge,
the marshy shallows.
In sudden fright they rise
into the dense cascade
of leaves, their ardent song
unconscious of its depths,
its hidden springs. Like that
unconscious stealing up on oneself
of a sense of harmony
within the natural world:
how trees bed to the wind;
how the wind ignites the trees.
Water lapping gently uder eaves
is the enigma of birds singing:
we hear what they feel;
but they reman deaf to
our voiced misunderstandings.
Ron
budd