Colin,
A+
As for the less poetic here in the Treehouse, I would nominate my favorite echo from the ether: The beautiful music of a persimmon driver, hitting an old balata golf ball, right on the screws . . . . . . I liken it to the difference between one of those awful metallic baseball bats, compared to the lyrical, organic pop of a wooden bat against a fastball, soaring over the fence for a 9th inning walk-off home run to beat the L.A. Dodgers.