Chimerical.
Who, having heard the very first whisper
of sonorous change as it catches the drift
and tremulous breeze starts piped quiver
in musical metal will reject those myriads
of toning jingle made by my wind-chimes.
Who, having harkened to hovering rustle
in trees as they warily take up the notes
will not need to catch playful air currents
portray leafy chatter, as pressure rotates
to tuned tinkle made by my wind-chimes.
Who can ever explain that mystical draw
of transfixing pleasure when the rhythm
resonates in time with buffets and before
pealing ceases yet another timed singing
erupts inside my chimerical wind-chimes.