Penn Cove Music

Penn Cove sings a song to me,

Via the waves, eagles in the trees…

The sounds of driftwood colliding,

Gulls and crows soaring in the breeze.

There is a song for every season;

Fallen apples, the coyote track…

The jazz of summer song birds

And the blues when skies turn black.

The snow that stops the traffic,

Lures the wild deer back home.

Pheasants cross the road again,

Cove songs leave none alone.

Howling winds are the chorus,

Thunder claps, the Kettle Drums;

Again an incredible sunrise!

I stare out the window, numbed. 

Spider webs, the autumn harp,

Catch flies and my whole face…

The music resembles chaos,

Yet each note falls into place.