Each language has it’s own beauty
perhaps that’s why people travel the world seek them…
I imagine they are just like me
and would someday like to speak them…
But there is one language we may never speak
it is a culture without words
It’s one we step outside to seek
in the trees, the sky…the birds.
It’s a language none of us can recreate
as it remains, to us, unknown
because nature does not translate
a language all her own.
When rain drops fall upon the ground
seedlings immediately know…
as the water reaches them without a sound
they hear…it’s time to grow.
And when the sun’s rays touch that soon-to-be flower
as it awakes from its womb
the silent sunshine reveals its power.
when it whispers…time to bloom
The wind invisibly rushes out and in
We try to comprehend but we have no chance
for we only know where she has been
as she invites the trees to dance.
We know all living things talk to each other
We know they’ve found a way
We know they’re listening to their mother
We just don’t know what they say.
But that’s OK with us…for each day
we can enjoy their music and their dance
without recognizing all the words they say
Like when we visit Italy or France.
In a way it’s like we’re in a foreign land
Nature’s land of trees and fish and birds
and tho their language we may never fully understand
we can enjoy the rhythm of their words.
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