Cradled in the gentle breeze, I sway back and forth,
studying the cerulean sky.
Daylight breaks through curtains of clouds,
spotlighting trees which extend bark chandeliers,
their pine cone candles flickering in the midday sun.
Grasshoppers softly draw bow legs against violin wings,
beetles rattle and shake percussion instruments
of abdomen, shell, and thorax.
Bees buzz brightly into trumpets and trombones.
I lie my head back and listen
as this sweet symphony subdues my eyelids closed.
My ears consumed by the charming opera of the birds.
Leaves rustle in applause after Sparrow’s sentimental aria,
and as the orchestra begins its overture,
I join in the ovation,
my heart clapping in my chest.
Cloud curtains close with bittersweet goodbyes.
I wonder what other melodies I’ve missed.
Hannah Botkin is a student and writer at the University of North Carolina Wilmington. When her nose isn’t in a book, she enjoys lying in her hammock, swing dancing, and working with animals.