The sun’s prisms danced waltzes across the delicate leaves that went on for miles. It was as if flitting fairies had flicked their long and bony, yet elegant, fingers and dispersed glitter all over the woodlands. One would think it would be quiet and peaceful here to match the untouched dew and stillness, but they would be far off from right. If one listened closely enough, say behind a log, or under the nearest toadstool, their ears would be blessed with a symphony. The little dart frogs croaked softly in harmony with the rustling maraca that was an earthworm and the bass tones of a woodpecker on a dense tree. More sounds overlapped, creating the perfect resonance of bliss.