evening play, just watch
dappled light dancing to the whispering wind
shadows swaying with a slight waver in their steps
just watch, and listen
rustling skirts courted and carried across the sky
dipping down, rising up and quivering
easy touches, here and there
the sound in my ear that brushes my cheek
musical notes that blend and I call them
the wind.
but, is it the wind itself that I hear?
or is it the things in the path of the wind?
responses to being moved?
is all sound simply a response to being moved?
JULIE ANN STEVENS 