Early this morning on the wind: a song lifted me by half-steps up a heavenly scale, sent me spiraling upward with smooth motion, perfect pitch, toward finale sunset, crescendo chorus of all who love, release grace notes bubbling up on the wind.
Late this evening on the wind:
a song lowered me by half-steps down a hellish scale, sent me spiraling downward with stops and starts, in screeching voice, toward first night, dark decrescendo of all who wait, search still for love, spill pain on the wind.
Imogene, a country-bred girl, longs to make a life for herself in New York City. She joins forces with her former college roommate to start a movie production company in the big city.
Major League ballplayer Justin Moore is kidnapped from his own ballpark and transported to a foreign land. It might take high-level international negotiations to free him. Or maybe he will take matters into his own hands.
unique poem.The wind is a magical muse.Superb!
excellent!