Swamp Sounds

Tree frogs sing on the night wind,

the same wind that plays

the long, thin fingers

of palm fronds

like a bow

massaging

the carefully tuned strings

of a cello in the hands

of a master,

and whispers words of love

in the nooks, bends, and whiskers

of creaking southern pine.

The staccato flap of hungry bats

answer repeated queries

from restless great horned owls,

nocturnal guardians of the forest,

dining themselves

on the less fleet of foot

until dawn interrupts

the quiet rhythm of the night

with the rumbling yawn

of a massive reptilian bull

who slips silently

into his tannin stained world.

By David Roth

© 13^th April, 2011