- Like no other sound –
- The breeze moving through the pine forest.
- I remember my walks thru the forests of Ahmeek, Michigan.
- I can hear the music, sometimes even a whistle calling me.
- The gentle rustle of the pine needles rubbing against each other.
- Whether winter, spring, or summer each has its own voice.
- Calling me to remember the sacredness.
Originally written: March 8, 1999
- The music of the forest pines speak of the sacred things in my life.
I wanted to write more, but there is no more to say.