Words

I have such
Gratitude of debt
Owed to the
Workers of words
Honing their craft
To pour upon the page
Perhaps to
Send through time
A silent symphony
My inner ear
Catches with delight
Held spellbound by
The resonance of the
Tone
Comfort of wisdom's
Arrows
Dwelling in the home of the heart
St. Bonaventure
Called us all
Little words
Words
We speak to each other
Even without knowing
We can be
Tone deaf or
We can be
In tune.