Perfectly Delighted

As I sauntered down the street,

I heard a sound so sweet,

A symphony of swishing leaves,

Swaying to and fro with ease.

The wind was whistling and whirring,

As it wandered and was stirring,

The trees were trembling and tossing,

With branches bending and crossing.

The crunch of gravel underfoot,

Was a consonance quite put,

As it crumbled and crushed to dust,

With each and every step and thrust.

And all around the assonance,

Of music made by nature's dance,

A chorus of chirping birds,

Whistled on with warbling words.

So in the end, I wandered free,

Amidst a world of poetry,

Where every sound and every sight,

Was a perfect embodiment of delight.

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