“Whispers on the Wind”
In a wash of dreamlike blues and breathing greens,
a solitary figure stands at the edge of the world,
where the earth lifts gently into sky.

He leans toward a bird —
not as man to beast,
but as soul to soul.

The path beneath him is golden with memory,
the poppies burn like silent witnesses
to this tender exchange between silence and song.

The scene shimmers,
half-formed, half-remembered,
like a thought that almost became a prayer.

In this moment of stillness,
brushstrokes blur into longing,
and the wind carries their quiet conversation
into forever.