Bonta imagines a world before writing, where nothing is stored on a page and everything has to be spoken, heard and remembered. In that world, the poem suggests, "everything was a mouth." Wind, hills, money and time all seem to talk, as if every part of life had a voice and was passing along stories.
The list of short lines (wind, downs, money, time) moves quickly, like someone naming things one by one. Then the poem slows into its last image: a body "with its rich well" that "was wine." The body becomes a source of speech, song and memory, something to drink from and share. Wine suggests warmth, celebration and being filled up.
The speaker sounds a little wistful, maybe admiring, as though something sensory and alive has been lost to books. Still, the mood is more curious than bitter. It feels intimate, earthy and generous, a quiet celebration of voice and presence.