The tribal drums pounded a soft, low beat as the pipes began to play their dream-like lullaby. Staring out the window into the foggy mist, there, through the curtain of moisture, a doe and her fawn casually moved through the trees ; grazing on the new shoots of tender spring greens.
A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the dogwoods, the tulip poplars, and the chestnut oaks in the grove. The cool temperatures and the gentle raindrops created a symphony of nature. As they hit the leaves there is a rhythmic order as the trees join their song with ours.
The cool damp morning was perfect as the music crescendoed into an emotional peak. The trees seemed to shake with hastened anticipation. The branches swayed back and fourth, their long slender arms keeping time with the piano and pipes.
As the strings added their slow melancholy aria, the doe and her fawn slowed to listen to the message on the breeze. Faces upturned skyward, looking, waiting, anticipation…. but what?