"Gram, you've a faraway look in your eyes."
"I'm listening to the breeze;
I hear the chick-a-dee's call
From the sapling white birch trees."
"Where'd you play when you were young?
What places did you of't go?"
"I played in the woods and the creek,
Climbing oak, beech, and willow.
I heard flickers hammering.
I heard the beechnut tree creak.
I heard cooing whipporwills
As night stars began to peek.
I hear now the sighing of red tulips
Beneath snowflakes bending low.
I hear the whoosh of red deer,
Run a path in moonlight's glow."
"I don't hear any of these things, Gramma;
I don't see the things you see."
"You will sweet dear, as you open your heart,
To earth's tender melodies.
Creatures have their own rhythms;
Every plant has its own beat.
The pond where you like to play
Has reeds snapping with your feet.
The songs of birds and foxes,
Wind rasping through all the trees,
Each joins in one grand chorus
The pleasure of folks to please.
Now hear the geese a flyin'
Their wings slicing through the air.
When we notice these life-time detail things
Our hearts are then more aware.
Aware of songs of mourning;
The far chimes within the night;
The whistles of the heron
Taking flight because of fright.
Hear the concordant lyrics;
The symphonies of our globe;
Descant now of quality
So aesthetic souls are robed.
Robed by brightly, tranquil hollows
Of accord, joy, love and peace.
Now draped in hidden phrases
Our souls will find their due ease."
"Oh Gramma, I am listnin'
To the poetry you say
Is just around the corner,
Near me every single day.
Yes, I hear cardinals singing
In towering white pine trees.
I hear the thumping rabbits
And the hummin' of the bees.
You've taught me secrets, Gramma,
I've learned all your lessons well.
Keep teaching me to listen
Where nature's melodies are near to tell.
I want to be like you Gramma.
I want to see as you.
I yearn to hear the bluebird
Voicing lyric ballads true."
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