Open your eyes and your heart and listen to the voices calling out to you...
Icy winds whistle through the tall pines
Harsh November winds scream to be heard
Brittle leaves of gold and orange blown cruelly to the ground
Fly wildly through the mountain air
Voices on the wind call to me
Leafless trees scratch at my window
Demanding entrance into my safe and warm domain
Voices on the wind screaming to be heard
Wind mixed with moon beams
Cast eerie shadows on the wall
Bringing imaginary mysteries to life
Voices on the wind make it all too real
As I huddle close to the warmth of the fireplace
As I stare into the dancing flames
Voices on the wind seem to call my name
Wind and moon beams demanding my attention
You must listen closely
You must listen for its message
For, there are voices on the wind
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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Peter