Monday, 29 August 2011

Nothing moves but sound

The air is still as feathers and the yellow sun nowhere to be seen. From the top of the old ash tree, a crow shouts. . . his voice resounding like a claxon, sending sound waves shimmering through the static air.

"What comes out of you when you are squeezed is what is inside of you." - Wayne Dyer


Cynthia said...

This is beautiful Susannah! I love the sound and light waves your words evoke.

Susannah said...

Thanks Cynthia. :-) It is good to see you. x

Barb said...

I feel a sadness here in the feathery air and the call of the crow.

Susannah said...

Hi Barb, yes I suppose it does have that feel doesn't it. Never mind, today the sun is shining! :-)

Good to see you.x

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