The wind is playing a Violin,
The classical music of the high sea is on,
Leaves and the branches are roaring up as waves,
Splashing across its mass of clarity,
it shakes,
the tree,
as another fiddle,
percussion being played by the wooden door,
which rustles and bangs itself across the frame
to be in synch, thumping and banging over the once silent, a creek,
creating symphony in a waving, windy evening,
A rare, dry flying leaf touches my cheeks.
A high tidal note!
Destiny Poets
Uniting and celebrating the best "Writers" and "Poetry" from around the world centred out of Destiny Church Wakefield
We get dry leaves umpteen times , but to get a rare leaf of the same genre …well one has to be as lucky ! Pretty amusing , if I may say so .
Yes Lokesh, the rare leaf the one that can be read to be blown away with the tidal wave is indeed rare, amusement is one expression that may show if you are standing far away watching the tide, the leaf and the tender cheek, far away from the silent creek. Thank you for reading and commenting, the rare leaf flutters with the wind, to be rightly read away.
Natures orchestra – beautiful portrayal. Does shape of your poem represent a fiddle’s body,could have added a neck too
Hahaha! Shalini thank you for that observation, reading and liking, Probably in the moment of the ecstasy the fiddle fondly pulled it’s neck in, carried away with the winds of the moment playing the musical note seemed too high for the neck, so she retreated. **smiles**