Interpreters needed February 2006
On Mondays we listen
to hear what the planet thinks,
turning and turning.
The trees strain, bend – the wells
murmur, maybe go drier.
All the oceans clench
their silvery fish as if they’ll never
let fish fling themselves
onto the banks to join us.
Even the birds keep their black
shorthand in the sky
when the earth won’t
think out loud for us, so