Necessary Language

In the author’s garden

So many years I mined
My mind and my own past
Seeking that silver vein,
That pitch and timbre
I could fashion into song
For you, for us, for this!

When once I learned
The past and what’s inside
Was not the fruitful place
To find that treasure,
I turned to the green world,
To its growing futures.

Now in silence and birds’ wings,
I practice in the mornings
One note, maybe two,
Still wondering: how long
Before the necessary language
Lies uncovered shining and true?