From the age of five, 

I’d memorized the Lord’s Prayer, 
The Apostle’s Creed
and the Great Thanksgiving 
 
I read my Bible head to toe 
filled it with rainbow highlights, 
fixated on Genesis;
“for dust you are
    and to dust you will return.”
 
I murmured those same words 
praying to hear them returned.
Never did I hear His voice, 
like the prophets claimed. 
 
I hear it in the sound of waves
The wind weaving through the trees
Rollicking laughter and hushed giggles
The cadence in animal calls
If I learn the patience to listen.