Your small wisdom reverberates,
shames my garrulous tongue.
All the days of your brief life
remembering what
all these years
I keep forgetting:
the primacy of song, the
power of song, the
totality of song, as if
we were made
for nothing else.
You still my wasted words;
mute my foolish mouth, which
henceforth shall only eat,
henceforth shall only kiss,
and my body speak its
native tongue, the ridges
of my secret wings vibrating
with such fierce love I
burst wholly into song.
Meditatio Ephemera 
Really liked this; we seem to exist in a similar world. The last poem I posted, just yesterday, I questioned how could we exist in a songless air. I could exist without hearing humans sing quite easily but contemplating never hearing a bird sing again is another thing. I sing to myself the poems I love.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Leo. We do, indeed, seem to be kindred spirits. I can readily do without human voices for some time. (I’d like to do without my own, though stilling the inner chatter is impossible.) But doing without natural song would be a true impoverishment.
LikeLiked by 1 person