Whistling again

I had drifted away from the green and lush river district
Wandering around on the savannas
I became as parched and the dry, late summer, thrice-browned grasses
My tongue, so dry and swollen, stuck to the roof of my mouth
Desiccated lips drawn together and fused
As if my teeth were wired shut
Even my eyes became so moistureless that the lids fused together
I traveled on only feeling the heat of the sun
Providing me direction by its passing overhead
But, my ears remained opened, hearing the sounds, cries, shouts, songs, and whispers
The deep base profundo of the earth
Keeping time with the universe, slow and low
The rustle of some creature in the distant, warning, loving
The calls and shouts of joy, fear, loneliness, laughter
The wind playing tones and offering them up so that I could
Imagine my own tune
I would have whistled if I’d had some spit
I was isolated, but not alone
Then a friend came along and convinced me to sip and splash from
Their water sack
And they took me to comfort under the shade of their shadow
It’s been a while since I’d visited an oasis
The greens are so much more vivid, the cool blues of the water deeper
I think that I’ll sit by this date palm
Wondering about the balance between silence and words