Every bird sings with the shadow of your voice.

Every bird sings with the shadow of your voice.
I hear it in the dark hours before morning,

or as a leaf of a different color in the hubbub
of the day. It siphons the air like a flute,

before joining the chorus of domestic machines.
You have to believe in it to hear. It seems nothing,

but it's there in the understory. I don't necessarily want 
it to be any louder. I just don't want it to disappear.