A symphony in the woods

Machine-gun-fire like chirping of a bird,
  And now, a series of whistles,
Gentle rustling of leaves,
  As the wind hikes the trail,
The stream gurgles along,
  A steady riff in the background,
The sunlight-soft and filtered,
  Clings onto huge suspended spiderwebs,
Which now shine like illuminated musical notes,
  A woodpecker plays the percussion,
As the dry autumn leaves thud down,
  Squirrels chattering loudly as the small branches snap away,
All a part of the welcome symphony playing in the woods.

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