How to Become All Attention

You hold still, arms crossed,
In the simple hold
Earned by listening.

Whoever listens
Attentively earns
Nothing in the way

Of wealth or wisdom,
But there’s a pattern
Worth the attention

Of the listener
Who’s vaporizing
Into attention.

For the connoisseur,
The finest voices
Aren’t the podcasters

Or the broadcasters,
Haunting as they are
Falling from the dark

Of rural highways,
Driving, windows down
In the right weather—

A soft night, few lights,
Shadows of black cliffs
Or scents of spring blooms.

The finest voices
Are family members—
Children, spouses—

Or the murmuring
Of old, haunted friends.
Just sit in the dark

And listen, listen
As attentively
As you can to speech,

To cadences most
Of all, forever
Asking yourself, what

Am I doing here,
What is my value?
Paying attention.