Listening with closed eyes
I see what I cannot hear –
A family of ducks, gliding
Their way across a pond.
In the invisible embrace
Of an old rooted tree,
That knows how to keep
Some really old secrets,
We bond over words,
With some chance friends,
Falling in like raindrops –
Their deepest meaning,
The wetness they bring,
To our quest for verse.
Could I throw a pebble
Into this still pond
And not cause a ripple?