Resonant birdsong in a concert hall of trees

When I sat down in a nearby garden, distant from life,
I listened to resonant birdsong, 
I gazed at the golden edges of cloud,
I admired the yet-to-be-planted ferns,
I watched the tiny spider climb along the soil ridge.

And I heard my soft voice in the depths 
and I experienced my yearning hoping loving hungry self
and I knew a deeper response to my day had arrived.

Then a repeat call of a bird in the tree above
renewed my sense of that place:
A haven for responding peacefully to life,
A home for discovery,
A rest stop to bring awe onto your path.

Meanwhile the sun—kept back by whiteish grey clouds—
meandered its way toward dusk in this place
and sunrise in another; and the cars
on the street below bellowed a solemn blare to the birdlife.
The birds went quiet for a minute or two,
taking in several breaths
listening out for their audience of trees
seeing comrades launching high
feeling the breeze of renewal
experiencing the soft sky
and readying themselves for performance.

But then across the same concert hall of trees
travelled the staccato cry of an infant human
and the non-human world offered an orchestral response
their glorious symphonies returning me to joy.

Finally the sun’s soundless rays spread over this page, 
gently inviting, and my happy pen takes its rest.