Yodel

Carry me upon its airs  
A beseech into the stars  
A single throat
That warbling thrush  
In windswept  
Like golden dust  
 
Behold a clarity not shrill  
A beconing  
Not in words  
But notes that wing  
To make hills and valleys sing  
 
A joy its keys fly unrestrained  
Not mapped in score  
But free to range  
An instrument  
A natures soaring grace
 
Akin to soap and flowers
Effervescent springs so unadorned
To cleanse away dirt from all clogged pores
Cascading scales like a waterfall
The bouquet given free to all