have you often awakened
on a foggy morning,
so muffled and still,
and wondered if you have 
lost your hearing?

the voice from your dream echoes
stay
the voice on the wind
in the very top of the trees whispers
stay
the deep voice
of the far away tide calls
stay
the muskrat
from under the woodpile
pleads with its eyes
stay
a voice you remember from summer
asks, wordlessly,
stay

have you often listened,
on a foggy morning,
so muffled and still,
to the voice of the island,
just beyond your hearing?

Nancy Duffy