Today the dead speak, friends, relatives—
I am older now, there are so many—
strangers too, Rumi, Mary Magdalene,
Jesus, those I have never met but know.
To hear you must listen with the ears of
your heart, the way you listened as a child,
arms wrapped around the slim body of
the birch, ear pressed to the smooth skin
to hear the sap whisper I am here, you are
not alone, the dead too, living inside us,
whispering Yes, Yes, Yes.