PLUM TREE ORATORIO

At evening the plum tree, green as it is in the fullness of its being, rich with new leaves and laden with ripening fruit, spreading out its limbs in verdant splendor beneath this breadth of sky, can do no more for today than begin to sing, sing at growing volume with all the tree frogs at its command, that live in its branches and in this way, as in others, pay rent.

All day long the tree stands as silently as trees do - apart from occasional whispers of conspiracy with the passing air - when abruptly and for no discernable reason other than some deep vegetative joy the tree begins to sing in a sort of froggy obbligato, back and forth, from leaf to leaf, in growing a cappella volume, until the overall tree is enticingly loud to one who happens to be seated in its shade sipping some chilled wine and is tempted to join in, using one's best chirping basso, at which point the tree falls embarrassingly silent.

Note to self: If you’re not a frog yet, shut up and listen.