A baby is singing in the morning 
before anyone is up in the house 

Before he has decided 
which of all the languages he will speak 
he is trying the sounds of his voice
in the first light 

He hears a man 
come up the street collecting bottles
just ahead of the garbage truck
straining uphill 
to come throw them away 
 
He hears the shriek of glass 
It is like the vessels of Creation 
breaking in God's hands 

He hears the wind around the house
and in the wind 
every word he will ever say 
and what will stay unsaid

and stops to listen to silence
and sings to it
the way the body addresses the soul
lending it shape
lending it comfort and sorrow 	

The body wants to be useful					
and the soul is open so wide 

This is the way we awaken 
He remembers he is alone
and cries for us.

Bereishit, Genesis 1:1–6:8