Andean Flutes Poem by Norm Milstein
Andean Flutes
It is a quiet evening.
I listen to Andean flutes.
They sing like wise ghosts.
Becoming melody,
I soar over vast spaces,
A spirit condor gliding on wings of purest sound.
All the wide, wide past speaks
As I gaze, enchanted, into the abyss of time.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Topic(s) of this poem: ghosts,wings
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8/29/2026 2:37:03 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
