In the afternoon of summer, sounds
come through the window: a tractor
muttering to itself as it

pivots at the corner of the
hay field, stalled for a moment
as the green row feeds into the baler.

On some days I listen to Garrison on the radio, some days he is on my iTunes, some days I find him in my email. His gifts of poetry are always welcome, though…some days they speak direct to my soul, some days it is my heart they connect with, and then, some days it is my mind that gets all wrapped up…

The wind slips a whisper behind
an ear; the noise of the highway
is like the dark green stem of a rose.

Today I did not listen, today I did not hear the meaning behind the words. Today it was left to my eyes to see the meaning hiding behind the text. Today I read and the wind slipped in…

From the kitchen the blunt banging
of cupboard doors and wooden chairs
makes a lonely echo in the floor.

I hear the sound of life echoing in the words, I feel the breath of life in my mind as I read, I wonder that the words touch me so…

Somewhere, between the breeze
and the faraway sound of a train,
comes a line of birdsong, lightly
threading the heavy cloth of dream.

And then, the meaning of the words, to me, comes clear. I have been taught a lesson of listening to the “sound” between the sound…To read the “words” between the words…To be within the “dream” within the dream…

And so Joyce Sutphen spoke to me…via The Writer’s Almanac with Garrison Keillor. Thank you both…