Whispering wind
Howling fate
What next, a symphony to create.
A tap of my thumb.
A click of my tongue.
Yes, this is where my roots come from.

The grass flutters and bends to it's way.
The leaves rustle as the trees themselves, sway.
The thunder provides a warning.
The drops splash all about
But me, I'm underneath.
Just listening for a sound.