It is hard to hear
the voices of the birds
over the wind’s whistling
It tears through the fir`trees
setting the cones to trembling
The little singers flutter now
down among the vining
berries gone to seeds
seeds to harvest
“Bird’s voices are starting to praise.
And have a right to. We listen a long time.
[We’re the ones in masks, Oh God, and in costumes!]
What are they saying? a little insistence,
a little sadness, and a lot of promise
which files away at the half-divulged future.
And in-between, in our hearing, heals
the beautiful silence they break.” ~ Rainer Maria Rilke