the wind chimes never stop dancing,
not even when the wild grows still
and the sun beats down its command
to the earth that all must obey
in reverence to the humid sigh:
that’s when they dance defiant
and one swift clang will resonate
cutting through the bright murk
as if to sing,
I am here,
still, I am here,
where some breeze
you cannot see or feel or fear
is urging me on.