Your voice sounds like the sizzle of fried sausage
as we giggle and chuckle around the campfire;
Your voice is like the soft keening of the breeze as it
wanders through the stand of aspen trees,
breathing your perfume, on the hairs of my neck.

Your voice is the sound of the river dancing on pebbles
brought down from the hills beyond the aspen stacks,
crystal clear, satiating and slaking my parched thirst.

​

Your voice is the bronze, burnished tone of a jazz saxophone,
as it romps and revels and kicks up its heels;
Your voice is our telephone cord of conversation
as it carries your thoughts across the fire’s flames,`
piercing my heart - thus I am revealed.