Linen, wire

Cley. Fading light.

 A light wind blows from the south

and bends the reeds to a gentle susurration.

 A gust swells and the hastening rushes sing higher and louder

as they bow to its force.

The intensity drops and they quieten.

 A successive crescendo

and diminuendo

that intermingles

with the sound of my footprints.