The Whispers of Trees
trees speak
in a language forgotten--
murmur of time, long ago
when men felt sap flow--
whisper of abundance,
grubs crawling beneath them--
cry out in desolation
for their companions
denuded, dejected
torn apart--
sing songs of brave men--
sent out over the winds--
stillness pervades haunted groves
stillness now filled with paucity of life--
i have lost the ability
to hold the ear of those around me--
and so, i return
to the whispers of trees.
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2012