Tickled eardrums by whispered secrets or simply just milling along, the sky holds stories like a tender child holds dreams. Turn the page.

Once, the wind sang about a curious squirrel who wore blue bows. Have you heard it?
There are trees laughing, shaking green hands.
Whispered wishes float downstream.

Pathways made of sunbeam threads link thoughts wandering untethered. Join them and listen to the wind's story.