Babies Breath: Wild Sonata

            [It may be necessary to turn up your volume to hear the "Music"]

Last night a thick blanket of clouds covered the sky, eliminating any sign of the waxing moon. I stood still, safe in Her womb. The riotous screeching of a barred owl gathering came from the darkness of thick giant pines and ancient hardwood trees, over the pond, echoing off of massive granite rocks.


I recognized familiar voices. Another deep, distinctive guttural voice – previously unknown –sounded over the others. I imagined them fluttering and flitting from one tree to another in their mating dance. The rising pitch triggered a response in the deepest part of my untamed heart. How I love their wild souls.

Suddenly, they fell silent. My breathing tempo returned to normal; yet I remained motionless.

The swollen brook raced over its rocky bed and gushed eagerly into the waiting pond where a lone peeper practiced chirping tirelessly, skipping every sixth beat taking a well deserved breath. In my head I contemplated moving, but halted when I heard a single cluck from the hill behind me. Again I waited for perhaps an answer or the same cluck. Nothing.

Again, one owl screamed and then the others joined in the rowdy chorus. The wind gusted, drenched with cold moisture from the remaining pockets of crusted, speckled snow. The peeper continued practicing and skipping every sixth beat. Every other measure was punctuated with a single, syncopated cluck.

I walked away in silence, careful not to disturb the wild sonata of the woods, savoring the possibility of memories to come.