When pale pink shows itself
above the eastern rise,
the concert begins,
slowly at first,
but more players arrived yesterday,
making the music swell today.
Each tree hosts one or more musicians,
perched on branches,
unseen in early dawn.
Curious
and desirous of more,
I venture into their midst.
The melody suddenly changes,
no longer sweetness,
but now a cacophony of anger.
I’ve been noticed....
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