I heard a voice,

a mere whisper

in the breeze.

When I paused

to listen,

only the rustle

of winter

echoed back.

 

I heard a voice,

urging me along

an unfamiliar pathway

beneath a vivid

sky belonging

more to June

than January.

 

I followed the voice.

It was the only voice

that could save me.

 

Grace Grits and Gardening

Musical Pairing:

Winter, Tori Amos