No Words.
A small bird on a rock-peak above froth-veined
white rolling stream began speaking to me.
Not by words he set about piping in strong happy
notes among leafy islands joy\'s sweet clarity.
With no way to transcribe I leaned forward into
his mind and caught the right frame of his tone.
No words could describe his voiced cadence and
briskness the gladness such singing made known.
With symphonic report his gratitude for water
refreshment came from sheer slaking of thirst.
That bird bridged understanding by abundance
of satisfied trilling of gladness without a word.
I learned the secret of joyful existence that day
from a dipper who word-less contact displayed.