Be Still and Listen

to the equal, rhythmic bass of my feet

to the wind filling my lungs, keeping to the beat on the pavement

to the tiny cymbals that are my earrings, ching-chinging with every step

to the singing of the stream that runs along side me

to the high, stuttering solo of a kingfisher

to the warblers' duet

to the sigh of relief in a hot shower

This is the symphony heard on a morning jog when ipod batteries are dead.