She spoke
in a dialect
of shiny things—
buttons, bottlecaps,
bits of string—
and the crows
answered
like old uncles
with gossip and maps.

She knew
where lost rings
went,
how the dead trees
whispered,
why the sky
shivered twice
before
the snow.

The rest
of us
spoke of
weather and wages.
She spoke
in caw & hop
of  wonder.