From the skyline to the soft meadows a familiar harpsichord thrum can be heard. Its frequency is only recognized by meek and silent listeners. It had been years since I first stumbled across this tranquil Eden, filled to the brim with flower beds as far as the eye could see. Resting here awhile seemed a fitting idea for I had been walking several days to this particular clearing. Lying down in the meadow, my troubles dissipated with the magic of the wind’s caress. I felt warmth and light as I was brought back to myself returning home.