Music is a stream
whose fingers, knuckling over boulders,
send droplets trickling into crevices, tinkling;
gurgles bass notes in hollows beneath the rocks,
spills soprano trills
that burst into the white noise of spray.
Music is the wind
that whistles high notes in the leaves
low in a bowl of mountain-side;
that whistles sad through a stone wall;
laughs in a stand of nettles.
Music is all that stirs on the earth;
blackbird standing on the dawn,
trout etching circles at noon,
the raucous crows bickering with evening,
a fox tearing a hole in the night-time.