The whistlers were symphonic, each contributing their assigned tonal range to the racket. One by one, each entered the music… first bar, fourth bar, coda.
But you were alone.
The volume of your voice was more than adequate but still no reply came. The Snake continued silently passing by, Geese resting at its edge but still no sound. Who were you trying to communicate with at this early hour?
Now the quiet returns.
Individual chirps have replaced the cacophony with another hour remaining until the sun begins to crown, birthing a new day. Each camouflaged singer has its moment in the awakening, ceding the silence to the next at just the right time. Soon, the sun will heat the air and silence will return as you blend into the brown of the Idaho desert.
Until tomorrow at 4:47.
image mademoiselle lavender