Susurrus

‘Sounds like music.’ she said.

It was something I meant to befriend but never did;

these far from loud things words,

the move of trees less murmured by the breeze - susurrus.

Purples surrounded us.

Twilight’s stars shone on the waning sun’s last fading hush.

Rustling in the prairie,

the cadence rose to sweep across us. She took in, ‘Breathe.’

The blanket wrinkled in

undulations known solely to the warm touching wind.

Too much city in me

to hear the subtle rush in wooded clearings and see

her more than just this once.