Soft whispering winds fly with reckless abandon.

Singing us back to nature still buzz humming a piece of all our offerings in labor and ecstasy.

No cave drowning out the burial of truth and illusion’s invisible sheath that echoes on a string through prisms of found glory.

Pressed up to it like a child’s first snow captured out the window; before terror of bodies dissolved dormant in the mind.

Life pulsating forcefully along a hot summers day; dodging traffic, weaving, hammock tied to the mighty maple trees.

Gently swaying

the tender baby inside, gleeful

Surrendered to the ride of our life

Blown away by the breeze.

2 thoughts on “Whisperings

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