The Symphony of the Forest

A symphony of calls high above

Voices without a form

No body, just sound,

as if it’s the trees themselves.

 

There is no recitative

There is no intermission

This music has no beginning, no end.

It’s the music of the forest

 

It started with the first sprout

It will until the fall of the final stoic pillar

Once all the musician have left

And have found a new concert hall

Greg Silverstein

The Child and The Chipmunk

The scream of a child

The screech of chipmunk

 

One playing

One surviving

 

The chipmunk does not know of play

The child knows naught of survival

 

Hundreds of yards and millions of years separation

Yet originating from the same

 

Is the child blessed or cursed

Is the chipmunk blessed or cursed

 

One free in the forest

One confined to a schoolyard

Greg Silverstein

The Experience

The Experience

 

They sit and bicker

Pumping out posts

Working together

To produce the most

Off track soon they will be

Pausing their work to harass me

Trying to observe

They talk so quick

The moment I preserve

In the words I script

One departs

The discussion continues

The work is forgotten

Distractions ensue

As the time runs out

the process remains

Never stop thinking

Ideas pulling on the reigns

Griffin Kane