somewhere her voice in the night whispering leaves (idea)

On the highway, the blur of passing trucks
In busy office buildings, a stampede of practical shoes

All sounds that rise and fall,
the ebb and flow of modern life,
I hear some and ignore others.

I'm trying to hear wind chimes on a still night
I'm straining to hear rosebuds opening

The darkness makes all voices clear

_{title from Clarence Matsuo-Allard}