When Trees Sing

By John I. Blair

Sometimes late at night
When stars shine at their brightest
And day sounds fade

I step out on the deck
And listen to the darkness,
Open to anything.

On summer nights
If I am still
I hear the trees sing.

Most often it’s a soft song,
Wind through leaves,
Branches brushing one on one.

But last night
A noisy chorus
Filled the air,

Rising, falling, rising,
Celebrating wetness
Left by sprinkler spray.

I’ve heard this song before;
I call it tree frogs, though I think
Tree frogs don’t inhabit urban gardens.

But thinking’s out of place
When it’s late, and dark,
And trees are singing.

©2016 John I. Blair