The breeze is making music
As the wind chimes play their tune
A clanging, church bell melody
Invades the afternoon

In between the gentle gusts
The cricket bands continue
A harmony unfolds for us
Outside the August window

With all this tunage going on
Although it’s played with flair
Without the Robin’s evening song
A silence fills the air

In a weakened state, they roam through day
On guard, prepared to bolt
Without a peep to give away
Their presence, as they molt.

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