Wednesday, October 1, 2014


We speak with the tongues of men,
Rough and smooth, sharp and soft,
Brusque and off-putting, smooth and welcoming
Some thoughts a simple word, some unpronounceable

Some languages belonging to families
Sharing sounds and structure
Some standing alone--no other kin,
Living in harsh isolation from their neighbors

Angels I imagine speak words
That fall like music on the ear
Perhaps that's the problem.
Perhaps we have too little music in our words.

© 2014 by Tom King

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