Notes Among the Clouds

Through the holes of the clouds grows an invisible music,
a thread of wind that breathes and cannot be seen,
and imprints the steps of those who wander aimlessly.
It accompanies the steps of strangers, without guide,
weaving a beat that has neither time nor place,
and invites them to walk feather-lightly.
Each hole is a ringing chime,
a gentle sound at the edge of the day,
that makes footsteps vibrate like thin strings.
When the invisible music grows again,
the strangers carry moss inside their shoes,
and the city tunes itself to the rhythm of their walking.