Wind Chime for Diana


Notes in the open

Play a tune for the first joke she told me

And sing a song about the movies she took me to when I was a child who appreciated being Included.

Every beautiful sound

Wrung from the wind and played in random orders that mimic the orchestra of angels.

Crescendo on the breeze

And my aunt who passed away on my mind.

She loved the simple beauty of the wind chime

Reflected its grace

And on this breezy afternoon I listen to its playlist.

Sitting next to the daughter that now has the notes of her name flowing through her

Catching sounds, not making them.

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