Wrens and siskens flit upon loblolly and shortleaf;
musical notes following us,
harmonizing with crunch of gravel
and whisper of tumbling brook.
Beneath longleaf pines,
we trod upon sun dappled parchment,
spirits lifting with forested blend
of late morning song.
Blue sky, Blue Jay a fitting encore.
by Margaret Bednar, January 17, 2016
This is in response to the "Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - Sunday Mini-Challenge" hosted by Manic-D-Daily - a prompt with a broad range of interpretation - I chose the metaphor route... Or tried to.