Dear Jenni,
Consult the vocabulary of wildfires, the diction
of rivers and waterfalls, the lyrics of sunrise mead-
owlark choirs, and a thunderstorm’s sky-bursting calls –
the solemn, conclusive affirmations of stone, the
laughter-borne conversations of leaves, belated con-
fessions and obits, foreknown – the vehement rhetoric
of wind and turbulence, the Sun’s impassioned decree
of governance.
Heed the cryptic asides of secret-keeping stars,
the nourishing sermons of wilderness. Examine the
scarred signatures of years.
Do not be humbled and shamed into silence by the
ocean’s sonorous extravagance. Inhale the tidal ca-
dence, the vital consonance, the primal resonance.
In days disfigured by idiot noise, raise your
distinctive, radiant voice.
Sincerely,
J.B. Kennedy
P.S. Make poems that never stop breathing – even when
leaving us breathless.
