Sing the Words

Woman with pen

And lined notebook.

Maybe I’m that woman.

So far, only the lines –

No words. Pen waits for

Movement.

Tree frog, impatient.

Lands in its midst.

He says.. I. I am your story. Me. Me and the trees,

The beetles. The flies. And this paper, once part of

A tree. Maybe a fir, perhaps a pine.

Write us, he says.

Me, the birds, and see the forest for the trees.

Go ahead. Write me.

Write my singing with your words.

Take your words to the forest.

Read them aloud.

Sing them to the firs!