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The Loud Lips of Life
| sitting here… | |
| watching my trees dance to the muted tune of a breeze | |
| two birds lovingly wing their way through the sun-glistening evergreen | |
| as a hummingbird stands on the wind for a Santa-red drink from its feeder. | |
| squirrels play tag on the sculptured-brown forest carpet | |
| while hundreds of bugs dance in the conical warm sun. | |
| here I sit surrounded by my four cats | |
| who occasionally open their mouths as if to say they're enjoying the view. | |
| Life is signing to me for | |
| there is no gentle whooosh of air through the trees, | |
| or flipflipflipflip of the birds as they move through the air, | |
| or the HUMMMM of the humming bird's singing wings, | |
| or BUZZZZ of a congregation of bugs. | |
| Where is that resounding crr-uunnch of dry-crisp wintery leaves being trampled on by squirrels? | |
| I'm learning to read the Lips of Life. | |
