The Language of Stillness

Story by Juan Luzuriaga

I travel, perch on things,
sing about the ocean,
but nobody listens.

I stop, and see a man in my periphery –
he’s the only one who cares.

I teach the human to crow-talk;
he listens while painting me.

His eyes have seen war,
like when I saw Greg get hit
by the moving car.

The man stares at me,
and captures my language
with a stroke of loaded paint
I capture his by not moving.