Windsong

A wisp of a whisper is heard in the eaves. A sibilance sighs through the grass on the hill. A harmony joined from the red maple leaves with dusk-tones of music when crickets are still sings softly in tune with this season of change: notes, auburn and tawny in color and sound, now rising, now falling, nostalgic in range, from sky and from earth, sing the season around.

You've read  of  free articles. Subscribe to continue.
QR Code to Windsong
Read this article in
https://www.csmonitor.com/1988/1006/usong.html
QR Code to Subscription page
Start your subscription today
https://www.csmonitor.com/subscribe