I hear the forest singing as I meander through the still, familiar grove

The wind-rustled leaves rise in a flurry and dance among the tangled brush

The cheerily chirping songbird carelessly flits among twisted, ancient trees

The woodpecker pecking and tapping, drilling into the soft bark of the cedar

The scurry of a chipmunk up a tall oak, the squirrel gnawing on a fallen walnut

The drone of winged insects darting aimlessly to and fro in beams of light that filter through a canopy of leaves

The creaking groans of trees, bending as gusts blow through their highest boughs

The far-off calls of a wild turkey, the soft bounding of a fawn in the tall grass

The bees buzzing lazily between the delicate blooms of the vibrant flowers

The gurgling babble of a cool, clear brook cascading over a multitude of smoothed stones

The sonorous croaks of a chorus of toads, their deep, slow voices resounding through the quivering air

Each sings his song, blissfully unaware of his part in nature's harmony