echoes in time

almost in tune i watch the branches dance
the music fills my head in my mind's eye
the well-known stage is so simple to espy
reality is the wayward child of chance
richness of sound invites us to advance
in a quick blink i note a bird pass by
we have good reason to watch it fly
the truest rhythm creates the best trance
what we do or say makes the best bet
not random possibility but golden shape
of light in forest and of sound in space
the applause announces that a purpose set
by the old heart is not one we may escape
our love of art's not written on the face