Listening

I felt nothing
when I stepped out my door this morning.
My body was a choir, but all the singers
mouthed their own songs.
Some sad.  Some angry.  A cacophony --
so much to hear
I heard none of it.

From beyond the fence birds sang, but their music was lost
in the din of my ears, and the sun,
which luminated my tomatoes one leaf at a time
and brightened my body,
gave no warmth.

But then light transformed, like the voice
that calmed waters.
My cells -- first one, then another -- turned silent
with pure listening.

Birdsong fell into my ear,
each note a stone dropped
into a pond,
its ripples spreading
to the smooth water's edge.