Whispers have replaced our songs and stories
Sleep and arms collect the builders of home
Summer’s nest waits but summer’s air brings rest
We three are left to break away, silent
A walk among the maples gives us song
We sing the moon’s praises and lap her light
The grove’s floor sounds of dry paper around
We share cool breaths amid the dead leaves’ bed
We drink down slow motions while locking eyes
Messenger and healer, and I the fool
In our chancel, worship life with softness
Rain starts in the cool night air, drips off leaves
White limbed, we are shiny, slick birch, wind-moved
Our roots tight-tangled, we measure our time
As the eternity of trees’ long lives
Salt on waves, winds and tongues gives us old wealth
Enriched by gentle motions, by the waves
We hold the true value quiet but bright
Behind lips mapping holy land and sea
Exhausted fires and coals cool the dark
We gather our skins and return to home
Previous paths remembered are warming
As the nest’s walls close our glowing eyes’ lids