Deep within the whispering trees
I hear my own voice call to me. It’s lilting notes are soft and low,
floating where the breezes blow.
Then disappears without a sound.
For fleeting seconds I can contain
It’s artful, and sincere refrain
But then it’s suddenly gone…..again.
Sometimes at night when I’m asleep
Into dreams my voice will creep,
Into my mind the dulcet tones seep.
The very brilliance of the sound
Of my own voice, on my mind pounds,
And then, again, it can’t be found.
Early before the sun is full,
My voice will come to playfully duel,
The challenge offering up some jewel.
Then slip away as I astound
Was there ever any sound?
I don’t know it can’t be found.
-by Tari Lynn Jewett