I’ve chased the wind through daisies until it slipped between my fingers like a secret, but turning that hush into a crisp, clean tone? That’s a trick even the wildflowers can’t keep. I’d need a glass of water, a quiet morning, and a microphone that listens more than it hears. Then I’d let the wind sing its quiet lullaby and let the flowers tap along in the background. It would be a moment of stillness I’d keep tucked in my own pocket, a secret song I’d play only when the world feels too loud.