There is a song in the wind, a warm breath across the face of the fields, a melody sung by the waves crashing upon the sandy shore.

The gentle rustle of the leaves, a music soft as dawn, the kiss of raindrops can touch the earth with promises whispered every night.

I think of all the heartbeats, found in the pulse of the world, in the stillness that awakens first light, all sing a gentle serenade.

• Sara Teasdale