the chittering of squirrels
and the here I am coos
of the mated mourning doves,
the breeze playing
in redwood boughs,
and ponderous birds of paradise,
each tree as distinct
in the fingers of the wind
as instruments in an orchestra.
But could I ever learn to hear
the spit spat spurt
of asparagus cells eating sunlight
or slow my vision to catch
those green spears soaring to the sky?
Ordain my senses
that I may eavesdrop
on the love song
of the vine to the rosebuds
and the petals’ pleasure-soaked sighs
as they unfurl their delicate curves.
May I too sing You
ten thousand ways
in the ebb and flow
Title from Rilke’s Book of Hours, 1,45
8 thoughts on “All Things Sing You”
Love this. Thank you, Mary.
Thanks. I have been thinking about this too. I wish I could see the poppies open and close each day. Everything sings.
Thank you for sharing.
And there’s a lot going on in your garden!
Love the poem! I’m going to my garden right now and listen for it’s growth.
I love it!
i love this one Mary…Bravo and Thank you!…xoxo Barbara >
Brings me right into that still quiet place where nature’s beauty can speak and I can hear.
Thank you, Mary.
You live in a beautiful place to listen, and you have ears to hear.