call

across the space of sunlit curtains
comes the sound of pages turning,
and the summer buzzing silence
enhanced by concentration;

against a background of afternoon
a story unfolds,
spreading to every nook and corner
of the place her mind has found
to let these words flow
in a stream without breath--
patient syllables intoned
in the echoes of architecture
no cathedral could claim.


intimate, personal sound
of a voice given no lips,
no language of breath--
merely the resonance of a thought;
a calm moment forming harmony
with sun
and hearing answer from the only name
she ever gave her dreams.

--
Title and this picture are prompt.