upon hearing the wood flute, nature leaned that little bit closer. it silenced and listened. all was hush, save for the world's breath. like the quiet tick of the clock's tock, the rhythmical breath breathed in harmony. in, out and in, out. all smiled to the harmony for when there is harmony, there is naught to listen to. when there is naught to listen to, nature may concentrate on its breath and its lean.
`t. imaan tretchicovmanicova
copyright © 2008