#1187-Symphonies

Warm, autumn day.

Windows open.

An errant bee buzzes

Against the glass pane,

Trying to escape.

Lady bugs flutter in,

Confused, scuttling around.

Cowbells ring somewhere nearby.

A soft breeze drifts in.

Beethoven’s violin-romance

Plays along,

With this strange symphony.

Nothing seems,

Or feels out of place.

Not at this moment.

Not even me.