A poem for Earth Day
Every Morning I Try to pronounce a divine name perfectly, knowing I can’t really say its swallow-swing or enunciate the syllables a mockingbird loops in medleys, can’t whisper vowels of an airplane’s rhyming trail. Names like that must be repeated as a flower lets pollen fly. I should mimic the closed bud’s wise pause. My human mouth can hardly shape the million-zinnia alpha letter, let alone the final plosive dazzle – but I can hum…