Cacophony. I love that word. At 5am, the birds are creating a cacophony of melodious chaos.
The word is nearly self-defining. A mixture of caca, that not-so-peasant stuff we hear about as kids, and phony, as in symphony. I wish all words were like that.
Next door in the coffee field, I hear a Tweet, Tweet, Tweet. Ah, and there's a bit of a whistle call. Now they are singing together, as a chorus. Meanwhile, down below in the trees, a flock of parrots is having a heated controversy. The scene reminds me of our little fledgling band, with different sounds coming from different instruments, searching for concord.
I'm sure the parrot ruckus has meaning, but I do wonder why they don't just make their point and then shut the front door. Why repeat it so incessantly? Of course, I wonder the same about some people, myself included.
Ah, and just as I drift off in this merry dream of ecological bliss, the neighbor's cock gives me a wake-up call. Cock-a-doodle-do, if you please! With proper emphasis! And as if to add an exclamation point, a Great Kiskadee just flew into my window.
Cacophony, and coffee. Good morning!