Acclimation

The croaks of the frog’s song carries spring into the cove
The mountains, ancient sentinels, send it tumbling down
in heavy mist, settling upon the land below
Afternoon showers create Eden for the natural world

Damp and warm
As though the meadows, rising to life, are breathing
the clouds form of their every exhalation
The frogs rejoice in exaltation
The birds stir the trees with lyrics of their own
Everything is rejuvenated

The mill’s shift change happens like clock work
Train sounds come and go, factory whistles blow
The trucks stream down the road, all headed home
100 and more years old this ritual goes
Briefly cutting through the amphibian chorus

Again, still….

The mechanization cannot halt that which exists beyond man’s hourglass
No matter how much time may pass, the grass still grows
the trees still bloom
the hills still dance under the moon
And I?
inspirited by these surroundings
I merely hope to share the tune.

– E.

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