The World Makes Its Own Kind of Music

the song of the bird 
the song of the whale 
the drumming of raindrops 
the howling wind outside 
a whirlwind of brown dead leaves rustle.
All symphony.

Even the ear-piercing airplane engines 
as they prepare to take flight.
Even the neighbor’s loud, barking dog 
that seems to holler out at hourly intervals.
All the world is filled with music.

When all is quiet and the earth seems to be asleep, 
my heart leaps into rhythm and drum 
– beat after beat – 
A constant companion.

I, too, am an instrument.
I can clap, tap or snap.
And when I hum or sing, 
a choir of bells arises in my throat.

Music fills the silence.
The steady quiet breath, 
a yawn – even a sneeze – 
all longing to be a part of that glorious symphony.