its in the squeaking of the willows against the wooden fence
swaying of long grass, rustlings of nature
the swoop of the seagulls on white feathered wings
in the movement of clouds across the rippled green blue sea
the sounds of children's laughter over the fields next the shore
in the ear of the poets long dead and yet to be born
and the breath of every creature is a small wind
a small breeze to carry the message of life on planet Earth.