Ode to my Aunt Michelle

She moves her hands,

her fingers,

her elbows and arms

to talk to that boy over

there, who can't hear a word.

She may talk to him with the 

movement of her hands

but to me she talks

in a voice of elegance and beauty.

To her four parakeets and two rabbits

she talks in a soothing, hushed voice,

like waking up at six- thirty 

in the morning to go for a swim.

To the world she talks in 

a voice of peace and justice,

love and sweetness,

kind and brave.