a click, a plunk, and a silent soaring

“All nature sings and round me rings, the music of the spheres.” There’s a click, click, rustle, rustle, click, click, click, rustle as I approach the knee-high patch of grass along the damp trail. Flashes of yellow-tipped red-orange claws between blades of grass betray the crabs who are scrambling to escape the small earthquake of my foot falls. Further along a decisive plunk surprises me, as I’d seen neither the frog nor the weed-logged bog he plopped into. As the trail emerges from the drenched forest, white waterfowl soar across the cloud-pocked sky, chests puffed out and feet pointed neatly behind them. It reminds me of riding my bike a few days ago. A huge gray crane startled me as it soared into my peripheral vision. He hung there just a few feet away, abeam my head for some moments, matching my speed as he sized me up and I stared back, wide-eyed.