EVA LEVESQUE
The birds chirped and the sound of water flowed down the stream. They said that the wind doesn’t have a sound, but I could hear it. With my eyes closed, I could hear it. The sound of the wind it trees with its branches sway and dance, I hear it whistling like it carries the words that people say in the nearby village, it carries that secrets that all people have, that all people won’t say.
People say they can’t hear the sound of the wind but I hear it in its warmth when summer approaches or its cold blow when the sun is setting. The wind always tells me stories, the wind sings me songs, and the wind cries.
I opened my eyes when I heard the crunchy noise of dried leaves being stepped on. The large blue sky greeted me, and the clouds come in all shapes in sizes. One even l
