The Wind tangos with the trees like the turning of the pages in a heavy book. When the birds sing it’s like the ringing of a melodic bell. I hear [often] the whoosh of a nearby train intend on its path. Every day, an old BIG plane – Flying Fortress – flies overhead, a drawn-out BOOM announcing its presence. The movement of air made the chimes infrequently clang. And… within the filaments of my environment the birds persistently twittered. Was this gossip?