In the evening I have heard her as she accompanies the breeze.
She lives an endless journey over earth, bush and sea.
The gift she brings is scented, it tells the story of her path.
Sometimes the smoke of fires or the coming of a storm or the crash of salty waves on some near to coastal shore.
It is her whisper that I long for as I lay upon my bed, the leaves rustle to her as she passes overhead.