So quiet and yet a hundred sounds
Come floating on the air,
How still it is, yet even so
Movement is everywhere.
A thrush high upon a branch
Proclaims for all to hear,
With sweetly shrilling, melodic notes,
That the joy of life is here.
The buzzing of a honey bee,
As he searches deep inside
Each sweetly scented, coloured flower,
Then travels far and wide.
The murmuring of the cooling breeze,
As it sways the golden corn
And softly stirs the petals
Of a pale rose, newly born.
The sound of rippling water
From the little stream nearby
And the cooing of wood pigeons,
On tree branches, way up high.
Just like the strains of a melody,
As they waft around the ear,
To remember, in dark Winter days,
These magic sounds we hear.