Who has heard the very first whisper
Of sonorous change as it catches the drift
In tremulous breeze and starts the quiver
Of shudders beginning inwardly in myriads
Of differing tones found by my wind-chimes.
Who has measured the softest low rustle
In trees as they warily take up the notes,
Playing their own piece in some unfussy
Leaf-chattering range as they rotate
Tinkling sounds made by my wind-chimes.
Who has explained the mystical draw
Of the transfixing tune when ringing
Resonates in time with air, then before
Pealing ceases another sweet singing
Begins round my rhythmical wind-chimes.
Your wind chimes are the heart of the matter where others play in the same song of seething, wave upon wave. This is a lovely metaphor. Much gathers more of the same (wo wa; wo wi). Give love and love will be returned from the far corners of your world. Sing and the song is written in your actions given to others through others. Quite lovely. Let the music of the wind chimes resound. A poet friend//RH Peat