In the dusk; the fading light my consciousness floats free to sleep, to roam, to dream.
Daytime’s resonance, artificial and brash, drifts away. In its weakening wake, within the soft quiet of evening, Nature speaks again.
Gently, she hums; she whispers; shushes the leaves in the trees, buzzes; at first a quiet drone - cicada in the night - swelling, a cacophony builds to crescendo, to diminish as cools the night.
Nocturnal creatures rouse. Night flowers with each new awakening. Every one with their own instrument, play their part in her Evensong; deliver unseen complexity to the music.
Night deepens, and the Mother puts down her baton, purses her lips and breathes out her scent - to float for the zephyr to take – a bearer of her gentled nature to those who dream within her tune.
The sparkle of the stars bear cold and quiet witness to the wonder of Her pristine night, and the bearer of the keys of life: This Earth - for which She is guardian.
Mother drifts into my dreams, leaving me with bittersweet. She touches my heart in whispers with her message, and harkens me to carry it forward.
Dawn brings magenta skies. Before the tinny, manmade sounds carry me to daytime, I hear Her once more. Reminding me of the song in my heart. She bodes me remember where I will find it, and to listen.