your voice is a song
sung across a different scale;
it wakes me as diamond sunrise
and sets me to slumber
as the silver streams of moonlight
crossing the dark wood floor
of a midnight home
piping like a flute
heard distant in the hills
beautiful as riverside reeds
giving life to the west wind
invisible lips of Zephyr
pressed light against their hollows
haunting the morning countryside
until their echoes find my ears