unvoiced
my first walk through our neighborhood
and onto the trail
we awkwardly dodge each other
out of kindness
in the beginning
I say Good morning!
but soon realize
people don’t respond
afraid of my exhalation
responsible for their own
so I begin to silently wave
never good with faces
now I’ve lost the voices
from mouths that I might know
in faces I can’t see
we become random bodies
circling around the lake
and an unexpected cold fog sets in
putting animals at ease
Three months of talking to our animal neighbors
has changed the way I am in the woods –
no more tiptoeing and blending in
I salute them each with a hearty hello.
Today after spying the mountain chickadee nest
and stopping to sit and watch
the babies poking their little striped noggins
right out of the aspen’s trunk,
the mother came close to
assess my intentions.
Hello, mountain chickadee!
I called and smiled
I’m resting here for a moment
and I’m taking out my binoculars
to get a better look at your handsome children,
if that’s okay.
You can keep feeding them, though.
You’re all safe.
Seemingly satisfied,
she cocked her head,
gave a little shake,
then flew off to keep at
the busy job of feeding her family.
Talking is a much better way
of setting at ease then freezing,
I’ve found.
Even if they don’t understand my words,
my tone and energy give them much more to go on
in determining friend or foe.
It’s like the skateboarders
down in the library parking garage
all by themselves after dark.
When I steeled myself
and got out of the car
they called a cheerful
Hello. How’s it going? –
all that was needed
to put me at ease.
fluency
at the rental car counter
English gushes from the Kiwi clerk’s
young, witty, unpretentious lips
and within seconds
she grasps our situation
anticipates what we’ll say next
banters, poses questions
sizes up our promotional brochure needs
and sends us on our way
with bubbly brisk efficiency
while we blink mutely
realizing how impoverished
our speech has been for months
(our fault, not learning Tok Ples
as they say in PNG)
and we stand stunned by what can be said
when you share a mother tongue
language loom
alone together so long
we’ve nearly forgotten
how others sound
how to weave an exchange
with another willing soul
until the tones hold more than
simple senseless waves
slowly we remember
to listen and ask until
there’s a tough cupped palm heart
sturdy enough to hold tears
threaded together
one under-over-under dip
of our verbal dance at a time
