Words When We Need Them by Naomi Shihab Nye
My poetry pal sent me Red Suitcase for my birthday, and I revisited it (like an old friend) this morning.
Words When We Need Them
By Naomi Shihab Nye
Before this early moment,
another, ripe with rain,
the scent of its own full shape.
Each day the rooster
we have never seen
raises the first greeting
and darkness which holds us
in its loose pocket all night
sets us down.
Now we walk,
waking up rooms,
switching on lights.
Into the breath,
wordless but ripe
with all possible words,
messages not yet gathered
or sent.
Morning looms,
more friend than
the best friend.
We could still say.
