I hear its message roll over the edges
of my routine from a distance like a
flirty voice from the center of fruit unbitten.
It is the waiting-waters I've yet to swim
and hills I've yet to gaze down from.
Un-strolled meadows with buds of
Wide in reach while startling in softness.
As necessary as tar to a roadkill
yet, as indiscriminate as dust... it touches me
The call envelops everything I see
in a new glow with a clear language
never muddled by any tone.
It reminds me to be my own answer.