When I listen to His voice, it feels rich. My body feels like my throat feels when I take that first swallow of tomato soup. It starts with a warm sensation up around my head and to the tips of my ears. I am drunk with the sound as it spreads down my throat and around my shoulders, like a warm blanket. And it crosses my belly and back and down my thighs and around my knees, to my calves and all the way to the tips of my toes. And I just sit there, listening to him talk. Not at what he’s saying, or the tender words that he whispers to caress my ear. I listen to the feeling of his voice. I listen to his soul.