Imagine that the night sky is a blanket made of deep velvet that you could wrap around you. A bird with dark wings flies by. Qiuetly. Softly. Barely makes a sound. Sound of a whisper. Just a flicker of motion in the dimly lit sky. Reflected back in the still water below.

The girl thinks to herself. The girl imagines. The girl watches this graceful bird trace a line across the sky. She watches the moon high above. The moon that looks like it’s singing, so she sings back. 

Her voice carries across the air. Across a valley. A canyon. A stream. Rivers. Oceans. Into the mountains. She sings a song with no words, only voice. Only notes that rise and fall. A melody that stills the very still forest. A voice that accompanies the flying bird smoothly gliding by. Into the night. Into the beyond.

It’s as if she can see this veil. And she knows where the bird flies to. She sings and beyond the veil, they listen. They know how to answer her. They come up with ways to respond. But it’s an acorn that drops suddenly into the water creating endless ripples. The start of these very many rings is what catches her attention.

She finishes her song. Because really it’s a compliment. It’s but another gentle guide into the night. And she smiles to herself. And those beyond the veil laugh with her recognition. 

…