Today I am Writing: On Singing

I was sitting on the bench,
minding my own business
and the business of the Shakespeare actors too,
calling "line!" "line!"

He approached, slid in as if the seat were waiting for him.

"You have a face of insatiable curiosity," he said,
and I listened, because
no one had ever spoken like this,
to me, before.

The air was warm like the first day of the year
when we all have been longing for the first day of spring
and the people emerge from the places they stay
to smell the trees, still dead to the eye but
not dying, and the Shakespeare actors walk
among them listening to their voices pushing
back against the branches.

Can you hear it?
All the earth is singing.