Fay Slimm.






A small bird on rock-peaks above quick rolling
bubble-veined streamlet began talking to me.
Not by known language he piped voice- notes
of warbling delight for life\'s essence so clearly. 

With no way to transcribe I leaned nearer into
his mind and caught the right pitch of his tone.
No poetry could describe the cadence through
    which flew vibes of elucidation made known.         


With melodic outpouring of humble respect for
refreshment he sang even when slaking thirst.
A bird bridged understanding by sweet choral 
abundance and fearless give of avian outburst.


I sensed needed awe

       as bird-speak that morning           

by a dipper, -  on coexistence,

my hearing adorned.