Chanting In The Wood Poem by John Rickell

Quiet stand the trees no breeze today,
filtered sun-light grey clouds motionless.
Plain-song chanting,
Sunday worship from the birds,
unified and unison.
no harmonies disturb the melody,
one song to rival all your symphonies,
gentle petals on the mill-race stream
random laid, careless and carefree.
Josquin, never wrote like this,
all self-taught; practice through the day
with friends from branch to branch,
joining when space is found.
I have no pen, if I had
I could no more recite these runes
but, 'til memory fails shall take,
each day I call
those songs so random laid,
careless and carefree.