Mysterious Voices

Whispering spirits of Native Americans beckon me in their native tongue.

I see no one and wonder where these voices are coming from.

I can hear their mingling voices all around my three and a half acre property.

Could hearing them from the beyond be a possibility?

They sound like they are near but just out of sight.

Sometimes I hear rustling in the tall grasses at night.

I have the feeling they are trying to tell me something.

Intently I try to understand the language they are speaking.

Their insightful words of wisdom I am seeking.

They talk to each other.

Their voices go back and forth from one place to another.

They seem to be whispering to my soul.

It seems I am hearing voices from long ago.

Curious reason I think for them to whisper to me from time to time.

Sometimes I think they’re trying to reach this saddened heart of mine.

Maybe they are speaking the words of my soul.

I feel that they have come to console.

Only in the early morn and at days end can I hear them.

Is it my imagination from which they stem?

Maybe a village was here before.

Sometimes I can hear them just outside the front door.

Why do they whisper to me?

How can it be?

I know they are here for a reason though they quite during the winter season.

Maybe they are echoes of what once was and that’s what over lapping time does.

I find great comfort in their soft mysterious voices.

To feel otherwise would leave me with a multitude of alarming choices.  

Voices of sweet sound continue to surround.

I will miss you this winter when the land is silent, cold and bitter.

Your voices spark the coals of my soul and ignite the cinders of my bones.