Spiral Lesson–A Rare Moment

How many hours
can a bird sing?
I hear him
all through the night;
sometimes frogs
add a bass rhythm,
crickets an alto chirp,
the mournful howl
of a nearby wolf
completes the endless
chorus of a full moon night.

I slip from my bed
loosen my hair
and take my flute
to a bench in the garden.

Gentle notes play
among the melodies
of the floresta
the whip-o-will calls,
I respond with playful
lilting tunes.

Frogs croak their approval
moonbeams sparkle
through my hair
and erase time marks
from my face.

I am twenty again
now thirty turning fourty
onward races the clock
until the crone sits
by my side
full of wisdom
and child-like glee.

Mother moon
Sister star
I sing softly
knowing the moment is rare.

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