If I had words

I’d tell you of a place:
Out of time’s touch.
Too old to know how old.
Formed by shrug
By shudder of earth.

I wish there were words

For these angry mounds that once
Screamed lava-
This was thunder land.
Where wind hangs its head, mournful, in caves, on rocks,
Whispers secrets, tells stories, cries soft.

If there were words

I’d tell you of brave green grass,
Blades grow, stubborn, against all odds
Through splayed, spongy rock,
Dusted with snow.

If only I could, I’d tell you

How loud quiet is,
Can make
Your ears ring
And your heart sing.
And sing.

- Jeanne Huff