We Get To Choose

An ill wind blows

Trees press in 

Ears assailed

Discordant rattles

Noises off

Background chatter

Whipped up on the breeze

Out of nowhere

But we choose what we hear

We choose what we let in

I choose to hear birdsong

The whisper of the breeze

I see brightness

Colours, not greys

Birdsong, noises off?

Or the soaring sonata

Played just for me

A feathered orchestra

The treetops succumb

Scream to no avail

Friction costs them

Bend and break

But I get to choose

Colour and song

Birdsong symphony

Fresh day, new life 

Nature’s harmony 

I get to choose