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Telling the Tale of Sound

by Linda Jenkinson

poplar trees

Fingers of breeze caress stately trees, which move with sultry sway.
Quiet, sweet as honey, as dusk overtakes the day.
The blandness of night seasoned by salty cricket’s rill,
The icy screech of waking owl, hastening evening’s chill.


Rainbow cacophony—chirping birds at dawn.
Sharp crimson of the cardinal’s whistling, wake-up song,
The electric blue of the jays first cry,
The dove’s muted gray and mournful sigh.

<br/><br/> wishing well

Ripples of a child’s laughter, sea lapping sandy shore.
A penny’s lonely echo meeting well’s empty floor.
If mixing all the senses could create a wish come true,
These words of sight would be reborn, visions of sound for you.