The Ways of a People – by James Wackett
During the day they shoutthrough a secret language:they bleat and squeal through fourwheels, announcing intentions,ripping metal from metalwhen impatient or careless.Even when still, they still talkinto their own hands and ears,whispering secrets to themselves–what they see, what they hear. But when the sun turns pinkand hangs below their houses,then they go, hand-in-hand, downto the waters.