Big Conversation – Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

I’ve become the person who talks to avocados.
Oh, look how ripe you are!

The one who talks to dust bunnies under the bed.
Oh, my goodness. How long have you been there?

I’ve become the person who narrates wind as it gusts,
the one who composes out loud while writing poems.

In short, I’m the person who once mystified me.
Does she really think lettuce seeds can hear her?

And I love being this woman who converses with stars,
with shadows, this person who notices feelings that rise

as I move through a day and takes pleasure in greeting them.
Hello shame. I say. Hello fear. Hello embarrassment.

How much easier life is when I join in the big conversation.
Then I am never alone. Not that the bananas talk back.

Neither does the mop. But that doesn’t stop me
from being curious about my connection with all of it—

the stain on the dishtowel, the pond as it melts,
the broken pot, the robin in the yard, the highway trash.

It’s not the talking part I love, but letting my attention
touch everything. Cracked glass. A lost glove. Tire tracks.

Mostly, I love the listening for what isn’t said back.