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)
