Breezes are adept

at conversing in spiritual whispers,

as the sun sets the table

around the shadow’s trail.

Light tastes like breath

to the mind,

which inhales the blue sky

and wonders wonders why

the birds don’t come for dinner.

Aside from nature’s secrets

I know a bit of nothing,

I’ve heard of yonder tales

that mystery weaves,

and I say,

speak deeds.