Let Every Leaf

Let every leaf caught in currents
Speak simultaneous accords
Iterated by the wind.

Unafraid, let them speak
Revelations to the universe.
After all, we expect revelations

Inside this hothouse Earth.
Instead, we have the trees,
Those crowned interpreters

That heft branching limbs,
Splayed from root-tip to leaf-lip.
It is on their lips—listen.

Their tongues pierce infinity’s
Faces. They speak into places
Tight enough to trap the sun.

Though they endure the shadows
Hemming the hollows from the ridges,
They know it is best to kiss

No shadow. They interpret
The gaining winds
Throughout dusk’s catastrophes:

It is best to fear no shadow.
Their stirring tongues translate light into life.
It is on their whispered lips. Let them interpret.