I miss this sound all winter, the wind through the leaves.
seen from Denmark
seen from Poland
seen from Taiwan
seen from China
seen from Taiwan

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from China
seen from Denmark
seen from Brazil
seen from United States

seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Bulgaria

seen from Maldives
seen from China
seen from Qatar
I miss this sound all winter, the wind through the leaves.
Empty outposts line the old kjarr trails; flickering lights fill the bog. A strange chittering comes from abandoned turtle dens, and the locals warn against eating the meat of animals caught along the coast. (Whisper by @merteazy)
immersed in sensory waves finespun as the susurration of a butterfly’s wings, our recollections resonate with the signatures of different times & places, in accordance with how much we miss them, an orchestrated arrangement of threshold moments pulsating with sonorous vibrations, every beat a critical piece in the unfolding symphony within.
RhymingTherapy—September 2021 (my photo) poem inspired by @writerscreed challenge “susurration”
poem und photo by pangarina-angelin-a
Susurration
You whisper yourself
To sleep, dreaming of the sun
Rising tomorrow
susurration
the wind speaks
through the rustling
of palm fronds
Sundays should be like this -
quietly listening
to the wisdom of the wind.
A group of sorcerers is known as a susurration
The Orchard
The Orchard both is and is not part of the Wildwood, the trees it contains filled with the Wood’s magic yet not part of the Wood’s mind because it is within the bounds of the Village, not the Wood. This duality both extends the lives of the trees significantly and also gives them … not voices, per say, but the ability to speak when they wish, to those who know how to hear them at least. Now, as…
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