Nature's Symphony

A prose poem: Meaning no stanza's, verses or line breaks like in traditional poetry. Kind of more in paragraph form...

No electricity in my one bedroom apartment. My bed occupied only by my body and pregnant thoughts. Giving birth to ideas of serial killing murderers, chainsaw massacres and my possibly unlocked door. I'm alone, again. No cable to watch, no phone calls to distract me from my own mind. The only comfort I have is my own air escaping and returning, escaping and returning. I lie on my back and stare at the tiled Ceiling.



The evening night draws uncomfortably close as the sky begins to drip from its pinnacle. Darkness cloaks this side of the earth with an eerie ease. Listen to the eastern winds rustle the trees. Mmmm I smell rain. It trickles. Newborn drops stumble on to my window pane. Trying to find stability, but fail with each splash.



I listen to the dripping rhythm and try to mimic the beat on the window. At first sounds like a grandfather clock, malfunctioning. Tick Tock silence, tock tock tick silence, but wait... The barrage of annoying audio pollution transforms. The thunder crashes like the cymbals of an orchestra, and howling wind is reminiscent of a sweet piccolo. A loose shutter keeps the down beat on the side of the building. Listen. A sweet melody forms and I am lulled to sleep. Unaware that on nights like these, thoughts of fear are neglected, while I hear nature's symphony rehearse in my backyard.