Voices on the Wind Voices on Relaxation
Australian Silver by Leslie Clark An hour after sunrise, as palm fronds greet morning breezes, and cockatoos squawk over a breakfast of beech seeds, a single shaft of sun pierces clouds and illuminates a patch of pure silver on the sea’s horizon. I expect some marvelous being to float to the glittering surface, glide the ever-lengthening path on aquamarine water to shore, toward earth’s turmoiled masses. To open our eyes, for once, to the truth of what is beautiful. But that only happens in ancient myths of some bygone culture–not in the confusion of contemporary times. Finally, the clouds part, like tethered window drapes, allow the purity of unmasked sunlight to touch my upturned face. It bestows, I hope, some blessing for the tedious journey back to a home that may no longer quite feel like mine.