An Entrance To Our Words

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We whisper softly 
a nothingness 
of sound,
bubbles of hope 
in which we live;
giving ourselves 
away each day 
to punctuated ears.
Surprised, 
leaning forward 
to empty futures, 
waiting for signals 
to mark our time.
They are right 
about the silence
of the osprey 
and the fish.
But in the morning, 
after twilight and 
the mistress of the stars 
delight in stolen kisses 
from another life, 
we hear small 
and distant greetings,
tall grasses waving 
in applause
as thud of hoof 
and wings of silence 
riding drafts above, 
release; 
then emboldened rooster, 
cloistered safe, 
with tongue un-cocked,
finds his way 
to start another day
and make for us 
an entrance to our words.

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