“Daniel pauses as he glances at the moon’s rusting reflection. He steps away, but speaks in hushed tones:

“The wind has no voice.
Its muted strain is movement,
in chords of shifting silence.
And through breathless rhythm
and measureless melody,
it plays across earth’s landscape.
Even here, the mundane gives birth to the mysterious.”

We rest beside the sea in wonder, waiting for the stars to lace the moon.”