An Observation.

South Branch of the Root River.

I went for a run along a river.
Away from the diesels.
The horns. The jackhammering.
There was nothing for earbuds
to drown out. I left them behind.
No podcast. No soundtrack.
Only this:
Piping. Chirping. Piccoloing.
Cardinal.
Chickadee.
Blackbird.
Sparrow
That’s where I lost
count. So many voices.
Science tells us they’ve come down
From dinosaurs, these birds.
How must
a forest path have sounded then?
Hollywood has them roar.
I think not.
More like a mighty pipe organ
Playing in a leafy cathedral.