|Posted on June 9, 2016 at 4:35 PM|
Listen while I work birch bark into bowls;
Listen to the corn soup boiling on the stove.
I live out of breath; hence no juice tonight;
Listening to others all day,
Their sound locks us in together, sand, snow.
Draw me out with long fingers.
Ask me what I think, ask me for a song.
If you listen, visit in October.
Draw me out with your uh-uhns and uh-ohs.
Sit down and serve me a bowl full of your silence.