November 19, 2008
The wind in her hair plays like a flute
random yet melodious
ducking and hopping among the strands
ringing pure sweet notes
The hollow ground a perfect bass
as she dances upon the flowers
Rain joins in harmony
with the sound of cymbals
to add a SYNC-oh-PAY-ted rhythm
Pulling her ribbon from her billowing curls
the sound of a cello resounds
one string on another
As she spins
the wind plucks at her dress
with the fingers of a harpist, precise and swift
She lifts her voice in a wordless song
a half-humming violin
The life within vibrates her God-given cords
to produce a sound belong solely to her

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