I want to listen to you the way rabbit brush
responds to sunlight, transformed
by warmth into earthy perfume.
I want to let your words land on me
like milkweed seeds, like yellow leaves,
like the orange petals of blanket flower,
want to receive them as gently
as they are offered.
I want to let your words sprinkle on me
like soft desert rain on the sandstone
so that I know where each drop has landed
until at least all of me is shining.
Sometimes, so caught in my current
of thoughts, I miss what you say,
you with your hushed and tender way.
I want to listen to the words
behind your words
the way I hear the river
inside what first seems to be silence—
and then it is all I hear.
I want to meet your words
and not lose my own words—
want to hear their evolving duet,
this song we write together
with every conversation,
every silence.