With the whispers of souls
Speaking tenderly to one another,
Knowing their words

Will be blown away
Into waiting wombs
Where flesh

Readies itself to say them. Life
Flexes, a restless tongue. Like the soul,
It speaks but never listens.

The soul has decided
To listen. Pauses
Between words

Like a mote suspended
In a shaft of sun
Stirred by the shrieks

Of human birds
Twittering of food and hunger.
Life lisps

In the labials of leaves.
In the shifting shafts
Of the light that never ceases, the soul

Brims with shrieks and twitters,
The words she’s learned
Creation speaks

In the guise of creatures.