A Forest a Capella

Along the forest floor I creep, not wishing to disturb inhabitants living there. Treading on pine needles ankle deep, as if nature had placed a carpet, so I wouldn't disturb its sleep. The forest, having long been asleep, appearing drowsy, begins now to wake and from somewhere into the deep. A chorus of Coyotes, yapping in song, before denning up to sleep. Have I given them cause for fear? Are they telling me perhaps I don't belong, having sensed that I am near? Or another of natures marvelous ways, of making music for my ear. My occasional snapping of a twig has alerted a Fox Squirrel somewhere near. Perhaps in a nearby oak so big. It's chattering, as if at odds, over acorns being devoured by Blue Jays or a grunting pig. With snowflakes now floating from the sky my eyes are now directed overhead, and though not seen by eye, I hear sounds of passing Geese, as further south they fly. An occasional hissing and as I turn to see, somewhat apprehensive, but with no fears. There walking the trunk of a fallen tree, a Bobcat singing It's part, like others, A Capella, just for me.