Thomas Doty – Storyteller
This Kind of Music
Evening breeze in Cottonwood Glades swells to a light wind. The wind sounds like water streaming through the ancient forests that circle these meadows.
Now the birdsongs start. First isolated and faint, then fuller sounds stretched into rhythms by the banging of woodpeckers and the crashing of elk through the old growth.
This kind of music grows forests, brings on the stars, pushes a full moon over the ridge. This music dances the sun through the next morning into the lull of mid-day, toward the lengthening shadows and the endless circle of songs.
At Cottonwood Glades, music flows like water ... from the wind and the wandering elk, the drumming of woodpeckers ... from the singing of birds.