Claire V. Bogdanos

I listened to the sound of bumblebees at play

While the muted echo of caterpillars’ sway,

Subtle and seductive, lent a special whistle

To the singing reeds where hid a dancing thistle.

The clamor of the wind where hungry leap frogs strayed

Mid grass alive with noise when all their eggs were laid,

Made unvenal chorus, too vibrant and alive

Like a blaring trumpet I thought I’d not survive,

Then with one rousing movement and crescendo rise

Hungered for the silence to follow my demise.