When Holly woke the next morning, sunlight was casting pale golden light throughout the forest. At her feet, the lake’s ripples dazzled like crystal in the light and a touch of frost glistened on the grasses.
But it wasn’t the light or color that caught her attention. It was the sound. Holly herself was a musical being.
She lived to sing and she was quite sensitive to all the sounds that made up the symphony of the forest.
She knew the songs of all the birds, the waltzes of the winds, the humming of the insects, the bubbling of the fishes. She sang along with the waterfall at the lake’s end. She laughed at the croaking of the frogs, and sighed at the sweetness of the fluttering of butterfly wings.
But this morning, the air was vibrant and alive with melodies she had never heard before. They were subtle and high, and soft and deep. Some were metallic, and some reminded her of the opening of flower petals.
She listened with all of her being, and her heart soared with fascination and delight.
“What is this?” she whispered to the sky, wanting to put a name to it.
And no sooner had she asked, than a ray of sunlight landed on her leaves and she heard a voice that sounded like a chime saying, “Hope.”