Why Words

This constant chatter
and natter which eats
at the bowels of every
action, which transforms
the most unlikely moment
into another war —
words, sheep, cows
roaming home down a
country road, stopping
traffic, halting progress
and impeding any rational
thought — words
the wind which blows us
around like leaves skittering
down a November street
lost from the tree
and the event of being
the glorious green
growth of another summer.