At sunrise, the wind is telling her story through the tree boughs and chimes
Sometimes a raucous cacophony and sometimes serene like glassy water on the lake

She uses the small chimes to tell a story so subtle and delicate
To not hear them is to not hear at all
Twinkling stars, little birds and the joy that a new day brings
It whispers, “Isn’t it lovely, this new day!”

She nudges the large chimes to tell longer stories
Of seasons, temperature, moonlight, and the winter solstice just passed
Its slow song, “Darkness becoming radiant blue above. Nothing is separate from change. Stay present, stay present.”

And the middle chimes – this is where she talks the most
It chatters on about how it let what came, come
And how it let go of what went
And found out what remained

It is in the middle chime’s mystical chatter
Where light and dark, form and non-form are seen as one
It’s never-ending story says with a smile, “Be here, with whatever shows up.
Be here, my friend.”