Pollen Piano

Hush! Close your eyes! Can't you 'smell' something?....Yes? I know, one cannot smell crickets' chirr. For sure they can hear, feel and meditate on. 

    From a considerable point of time we are but accounted with the notion that music lives in every entity of the universe. Through birds' chirping, wind's howling, murmur of the river, music has been eternalized. Wait! What about the flowers? They don't sing at all; they only swing their heads with the orchestra of others. So delicate they are that wind cannot play them as it blows the bow on leaves and twigs. Is it where the convention of the purest knowledge flinch a bit? No, those who can smell the musical aroma have gone beyond.  

Clicked and edited by Sneha. 

Each blossom has its individual taste of melody. Some pipes the sweetest flute, some echoes with their soprano. Many do justice with the depth of cello. I smell the symphony amidst of the eden of daffodils. I smell, every song nature renders; the sprinkling rain, the streaming tide, the growling clouds, the kissing wind...Yes! I take fragrance of beings in the lonesome nights. 

    And when the curtain falls the pollen piano immortalizes the truth of heart.