The Leaves Hide Tiny Violins

They clean their limber bows with morning's dew, and pose their threads to play a proper tune. In rays of peach they will perform for you their brilliant songs till light of afternoon. Their chirping limbs appeal to every age, presenting from the cores of curtains-green. Waste not your time locating where they stage; these instruments are heard, but seldom seen. Come dusk, the moon conducts with pale batons, invoking harmony from hopping hordes. Such symphony will cease with fleeting dawn; till then, the buoyant fiddles strum their chords. The leaves hide tiny violins you see, with wings and strings to resonate for thee!