Orchestrated by higher hands,
with tangled roots and shifting sands,
the scene begins where logic ends,
as moonlight bends, wilderness mends.
Breezes take wind with violin sighs,
drawing a bow made of strong pine,
each branch a string, each leaf a cry,
a chorus sung, their echoes chime.
Branches undone, untwist, then climb,
like ivy fingers, chasing time,
born in the hues of dawn’s soft gleam,
they bloom and burst, a waking dream.
Crickets chirp in, sharp as a pin,
fill dusk up high, fresh air feels thin,
bright fireflies blink notes within,
highlight the night with glowing wings.
Wild birds whistle as cello’s moan,
deep whispers in a serene tone,
clear stars descend, as a hush flute,
sweet petals close make fields go mute.
No maestro stands, no curtain falls,
nature conducts in quiet calls.
A dance, a dare, fanciful scheme,
a living world under a beam.
– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy
Moonwashed Weekly Challenge April 15, 2025
Prompt – Orchestrated , Nature, Scheme
