Birds begin their calls to praise. And they are right. We stop and listen. (We, behind masks and in costumes!) What are they saying? A little report, a little sorrow and a lot of promise that chips away at the half-locked future. And in between we can hear the silence they break - now healing to our ears. - Rilke, Uncollected Poems (Joanna Macy & Anita Barrows translation)
