I started to walk, and then a couple drops

I started to walk, and then a couple drops
of rain fell on my head. It was the talk
of clouds and earth I heard, starting to listen
to choral birds and frogs. What do they hear
what we don't hear? I wonder how unreal
our language seems to them? I see frogs here

and there among the bugs, I wasn't here
when she had come to see me. The raindrops
made the blues darker in her dress, the real
and heavy nature of her weighed me. Talking
to the small flowers with my posture, hearing
their petals move, I am the patient listener

composing what he hears. I start to listen
to the cycles turning around, both here
and in the heavens. I'm starting to hear
the whirling of the spheres, I am a drop
of knowing in an ocean of love. The talk
of seas on shores, of gulfs and rivers, real

lasting verse that shapes the lands. I realize
the words I speak, I realize my listening
extends my consciousness. These objects talk
to me in languages I don't know, here
and there I sense a grapheme. The teardrops
are shaped like letters, vowels, I can hear

the syllables come from her mouth, I hear
the movement of her tongue and love. The real
and vibrant world engulfs me, I have dropped
myself into a mysterious well. I listen
to the walls and fall, the void that is here
is the same everywhere, this idle talk

is purposeless. I feel the air that talks
above the mountains and rivers, the air I hear
is moving as the weather. It moves from here
to there as the days pass, it isn't really
something that you can read to know, just listen
to the soft clouds and trees. I am a drop

of nothing, I am a drop of lazy talk
that you can't hear. I am the leaf that listens
to the real and vibrant music of here.