Conversation.
We listen
The trees urge us to
For noise in the noise
For voices crying out
And solitary melodies
Resting on their hanging limbs
Resting in their bellied boughs
Resting at the roots of the hill.
Sounds of tumbling leaves
On temple stone and sandcastles
And avatars and StumbleBlogs
Changing the space around us
All for contentment’s sake.
The only thing time gives;
To build, to create, to generate -
The singers not the song
Bringing hope when we listen
In this flooded wood.