Evening's Musician

Someday in the evening times
A music comes from the house with pond.
I know there lives a Musician,
Maybe he practices his written songs.
He gives a big blow on his trumpet
And the birds and frogs come out from homes.
The giant leaves of coconut start to swing.
The water surface shines like some silver throne.
One by one he sews his harmonical sins.
The souls of nature have nothing to do.
There still is an hour or two from sunset.
Who'd tell here dominated once the morning's loo?
But still, it doesn't quench the thirst of mine,
It’d be more fascinating with choirs and strings.
But nature perhaps was also hearing mine,
She plays my choice through the grasshoppers she brings!