The Bad Listener

He imagined that he heard

Words in the sound of the wind,

Words in the songs of the birds.

How much beauty is left me?

The hawks would like to eat me.

Calm could be the end of me.

I have sinned, sinned, and I am

Insufficiently ashamed.

Will this nightfall fall on me?

But of course there were no words.

The world had nothing to say.

Still, the calm came for the wind,

And the hawks caught at the nest,

And other voices told him

There was nothing he needed

To say about anything,

Nothing anything needed

From his imagination.