swift breeze rolling waves
bamboo flutists trying notes -
symphony in air.

Kentucky nights bring stillness
but not silence

tranquility shrouds creatures of the night
their symphony betrays that.

Grasshoppers and crickets chirp ceaselessly
microorganisms making music of magnitude

introducing dusk to night
with unintelligible cheering.

Timid critters make their presence known
using the anonymity of darkness

raccoons and opossums wail in the distance
their cries aren’t a call to action but a wild expression

they could be dying—they could be giving birth
it’s always one or the other.

Vulnerable bellowing brings out the dogs
for a canine crescendo

projecting power into the air
raised hackles raise spontaneous barking

echoing through the ravine
alerting newts and neighbors alike.

The noise is paused as dogs are brought inside
the faint murmur of scolding replaces them

like an aria without an aside
the air is still again

until a pack of coyotes complete the satz
finding their prey as the night’s finale.

I write
A symphony
Of you
And me

We sing
Our symphony
Colors and sounds
Float through the trees

Symphony
Red and blue
Make a purple symphony

A tremble in the stillness
Disturbs the reflecting glows
Presages a message from the gently
   disturbed surface,There is comedy in the tragic.
There is dignity in human shame.
There is irony in mundane normality.
We just have to find it.
That's how we'll make it through
A peaceful song upon my life.

Like buds open soft,
Mind blooms with no serenade.
But it's pure fragrance,
Reaches distant akin hearts.
The symphony tolling long...

The crack of the neck
the pop of the knee.
These sounds are parts of the symphony of me.

Compassion is the basis of morality.” 
― Arthur Schopenhauer

I.
Saying bye-bye, a farewell symphony
To someone you loved

Saying bye-bye, a bitter experience
To something you believed.

II.
Likewise, restrained tears at a departure hall;
As if listening to a movement of the finales
Of a fantastic life symphony

His eyes were drifting away;
Her appearance was pale and fatigued.
When the last movement ended
They hugged,
it was the last time they met up.

III.
Morals or control, what is it?
Wasn't it odd to enjoy the voice of central controlled squads?
And what is the best time to cry for nationalist values?

Morals or domain? where does it exit?
Without realising the truth turns to sinner .
Why are many leaders leading the flocks?
Although, he and she never practiced what they preached.

Morals or law, who is in charge?
Without guilt,  cast the first stone.
Why are those sorrows hidden in their hearts
hence, who gets offended when its upon us?

VI
Saying bye-bye, morals,
A symphony of never finished music scores,
Will they just discover
Once all is said and done 

And was that a successful concert?
were those favourite movement
All along.

You


A leaf
sings
it’s own
tale for
you, in
symphony
with the
delicate
branches
of your veins,
as you lie
there and
hear the
music you
once had
sought to
hide, you
wished to
write about
it, rather,
you closed
your eyes,
for the ones,
as you, who
struggled to
reveal their
words are
the ones
with the
deepest
wells of
feeling,
you, who
was once
amongst
those in the
sea of nothing,
sung your
song and
found a drop
akin to their
own, and so,
you and them
were no longer
a blur.