My old apple tree is the conductor of Bedlam Farm,

you can see it’s arms upraised

to bring the chorus to its feet, to

direct the wind whistling across the march,

the cries of the sheep eager to graze,

the braying of the donkeys for some food and attention,

the rhythms of the peepers by the stream,

the complaints of the geese in the pond, as they chase the ducks away,

the pants of the border collies when they come in out of the sun,

the crows telling each other the day’s news,

the indignant clucks of the broody hens,

the coyotes in the woods howling, trouble for something.

My apple tree has quite an orchestra to conduct,

to bring some order to the chaos

t is so difficult to get them to sing together,

there is so much music here.