Natures MemoriesWhat mysteries would be revealed
if only you could hear a field
discussing all the visitors
with Oaks, the Grand Inquisitors,
who hide those secrets deep within their rings.
What sorrows, buried 'neath the grass
forgotten... but as ages pass
remembered by Mariah's breath
and told to Redwoods ere their death,
now locked in stone where only lichen clings.
What of the lovers, hand in hand
who strolled in silence, 'cross the land
or sat and watched the clouds roll by.
Soft cotton ships, which sail the sky
to give the field a drink when there is need.
The field, caressed by farmer's plow
lies fallow, contemplating how
the golden stalks of winter wheat
were trampled 'neath the cattle's feet
but left their wind-swept songs along with seed.
Oh what adventures could be told
by rocks and boulders, as they rolled
through all the many centuries.
Their tale, if told, would surely please
a listener. Their voices can't be heard.
For Nature's memories are Hers,
aware of all, as it occurs.
She sends her secrets through the land
to all Her children, small or grand
and they won't even say the smallest word.