Flighty young
birds told her of thermals flown,
Winds whispered
to her of old passages blown,
Tiny Seeds showed
her their dark hiding places,
Petals gave her
glimpses of their shy folded faces,
Yet she never
told a soul.
Insects crawled
into her ear to talk in soft whispers,
Oceans, in sign
language, their secrets wet glistered,
Within the soft
rustling of leaves, she listened to trees,
She heard sweet
messages within the buzzing of bees,
Yet she never
told a soul.
She knew all the
meanings of the butterflies’ dancings,
She spoke nothing
of the beast´s old & wild prancings,
She also knew of the
sinner´s sadness, joy & great love,
Told to her in prayers,
by those, all searching above,
Yet she never told
a soul.
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