by M. L. Kiser

Created on: March 23, 2010

Colorful specters stand whispering secrets,

but the mortal ear hears only the rustle of

crusty leaves caught in a Fall wind.

Natures language is a private thing, you see.

Humans excluded of course;

what do they know about Nature and her ways?

Humans have long ago forgotten it;

built many languages of their own and

now the trees pass their secrets around;

an ongoing conversation about life, death and

the peculiar things in-between;

themselves being one.

How can they forget what their souls

have always known?

Nature came first, humans later and with closed

senses they’ve lost the capacity for participation

in this thing called life.

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