Ruth Stone




Tendrils

While leaves are popping bullets of air,
they are saying something –
a flux of otherness,
a pulse of organic sex.
But the wind sucks up
the slightest moth
or spider that leaps
throwing its web in the shadows –
a continuous tongue of foreign talk.
It is a matriarchy,
perhaps a grandmother,
vast and all knowing, this caster
of violent,
untranslatable language.