Listen, my child, to the silence
The undulating silence
where valleys and echoes slip,
bending foreheads
to the ground.
Listen.
~ Frederico Garcia Lorca
The beauty of the trees,
the softness of the air,
the fragrance of the grass,
speaks to me . . .
The strength of fire,
the freshness of morning,
the taste of salmon,
the trail of the sun,
and the life that never goes away,
they speak of me.
And my heart soars.