The Wind

The wind
Carrying the ghosts of every word spoken
Unheard messages
From beyond the fields we know
Intimate with fern, stems and stone
Causing sighing trees
To overlay mosaics of trembling leaves
And bending in the breeze
Drawing moisture from rain soaked moss
And lichen armored wooden cathedrals
Howling over mountains
Racing over rivers
Idling on becalmed seas
Flickering ripples on rain soaked pools
Sun dappled glittering vibrations
Spreading to arcane wisdom
Forever whirling mysteries
Causing stems to bend
Perfumed flowers in the air
The wind is with us
The wind is listening to our conversation
The wind travels round and round
It listens it hears
It breathes it understands
You cannot escape
From the listening wind in this world
The age of innocence is upon us
It echos in the wind