The Speaker

What’s a Speaker?

Someone who talks; orates; verbalizes,

But is it only humans that do speak?

Walking through the Potomac of life,

Where the only tribute brought is the human senses,

You can see, touch, feel, smell.


The trees talking through the slightest of yellow in the canopies,

golden line of communication,

much like your still-tangled wire from the telephone your mother once used to call your dad,

stashed away in some drawer.

They whisper, trees don’t shout, but you can always hear what they say.

The apple shrub, with blood red fruit beckons to you,

The gulmohar tells you that she smells nice, to come nearer,

The  banyan, the wiser of the three,

tells you how it’s been through rain and fire, because you can see the places where the bark peels off,

You can feel the places where the bark peels off.

So, with sight, some scent, some feeling,

The one thing you can be sure of,

Is that all the other senses combine to let you know, that trees are Speakers too.


Your pet dog, she’s very pretty, but does she speak?

You’d say no, but I’d say yes.

You look into her eyes.

A twitch to the left, where the food is,

A twitch to the right, where her leash is,

The tongue lolling out to tell you that she’s hot, (oh yes, she is), the slight shift of feet that tells you it’s time,

To take her on a walk.

Actions speak louder than words, they said.

What they didn’t say, was that it applied to everything non-human too.


Look at the wind, they say it’s wanton,

An immaterial being sexually immoral?

But, doesn’t she tell you when you need to pick your sweater up from the place it’s been since she last reminded you,

That promiscuity can be cold too.

Or the times she tells you to strip down to nothing,

Because it’s too hot to have her waving a fan in your face,

Or when she’s lost weight over the winter?

You feel, see, touch, smell the heat, but most importantly you hear, and listen too, to the wannabe immoral.

Is that speaking? Is wind a Speaker too?


I’d tell you more, about how the flowers giggle,

how the pen swishes,

how the places you’ve been to with your ex make you cry out loud with their constant reprimand,

how the places you’re going to meet your soulmate seem to enunciate clearly,

How the coffee table tells you it’s morning already,

How lovely the woods are when it’s light,

How much they gossip when it’s night,

How an explorer’s bag crumbles with anxiety,


For now

you just need to know,

Everything speaks if you listen, if you hear.


2 thoughts on “The Speaker

  1. Diann Mckinstry says:

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