Birdsong

It begins,
Silently at first, a whisper among the trees,
Stirring the leaves gently across the ground,
Raising the ears of the woodland,
Waking the creatures that dwell there,
Rippling the water of the pools.


It builds,
From a whisper it rises, transforms,
Becomes a mighty crescendo,
Burrowing its way through the ground,
Rushing between the trees,
Diving to the darkest depths of the water,
Soaring above the treetops,
Blazing into the minds of all that hear,
Who scurry for cover in its path.


Birdsong,
Loud enough to drown out all the others,
Encompassing all until nothing is left,
Nothing but the song,
Sweeping away the old;
The stagnant, the decaying, the lifeless,
Leaving only the new to grow,
Become strong,
And to live.


Everything changes.