What I Need to Hear

Talk to me about thin sheets of ice
so translucent that submerged branches
reach toward the surface-
Talk to me of the pin-prick cold
and the way the sun strives to melt
ice encased leaves
Speak to me of how tree branches
wait for their leaves, how two boys
on skateboards ride the top of a railing,
of how our orchid loves the sun
entering the kitchen, of the woman
whose two large dogs take her for a walk
Speak to me of climbing a mountain
and tasting the salt of sweat, of collecting
sea glass, of looking for mermaid's purses
on Provincetown's beaches, of flying
a kite so high that it mingles with clouds
I need to hear the wind and sing the wind
I need to hear an echo in a wind tunnel
Talk to me of how a poet makes words holy
Talk to me of the holy, of how it is found
on a city street, a spinney of birches, between
the cracks, while eating a sandwich, pulling
on a taffy bar, listening to the ice cream truck,
recalling the peddler who sold old clothes,
or the man who sharpened knives and scissors
Talk to me while the tea steeps
and the night begins its hours
Talk to me of daylight
of the spring seed catalogue,
of tomorrow's weather