The voices echo through the isles:
An invocation from the skies,
A ceaseless chant around the hills,
A manic chattering of spells.
We are interpreters who hear
These mystery songs and forge our tales,
Our ocean rhymes, our waves of light,
Our words of human fear and flight.
The wisdom in the speech of birds
Is knowledge from a different world.
Our mountain stories magnify
The hubris in the things we know.
The shearwater spoke no words:
We missed the truth in what was heard.
shared with Poetry Pantry