WHEN WE GATHER

I like my own language best. 

I can talk to the shorebirds or clouds. 

In the woods there is constant chatter going on. 

Trees bark at me and I call back. 

It is wonder. 

Other people can’t understand this. 

I call it angel speak. 

It is mine alone.

I learn their words, too. 

We must communicate, so

it’s easier for me to acquiesce. 

Otherwise not much would

transpire in our world of communication. 

Regular people can be so funny. 

At times they are dour, depressed and bitter. 

Other times they speak romantically, upbeat and jubilant.  

I have good times and bad when conversing with them and

I understand the complexities of their busy world. 

I want a happy, peaceful life so I return to

my world alone and carry on in my own language. 

It is safe, moonbeams have meaning and

stars twinkle with their coded message. 

We are at one with each other. 

I will stay involved with humankind, but

for now, I must recharge. 

I think you understand. 

I can hear it in your music.

Stanislaus Kuperski aka Staanski

May 11, 2016 ^