I Know It Is Spring

I know it is Spring
because the apple tree
is flinging away her clothes.
The blossoms fall without
announcing their joy
or sorrow.
They need no voice
but the breath of April.
I’m tired of voices,
both yours and mine,
yet I could listen to our
silences all
night long.
Forgive me, Lord,
sometimes I even
get tired of your voice.
How many scriptures
must a man read
before he gets to the end
of words?
Before he gets to the sigh
that means, “OK,
I can live now,
I can fling away everything
and whirl."