I know all things, fact and folly My tongue etches secrets into rock faces And makes tall thin trees curl with disgust or awe. Salacious. I tell your secrets too, Whispered harshly into pink ears cupped by gloved hands Or kissed onto the necks of sweaty daydreamers Who sit barefoot by lakes on sticky days. They don’t care, they have secrets of their own, I tell those, too, to time and the mountains. I know all things, hither and thither I tell how they bloom and then how they wither With neither tears nor glee, swift as the breeze For that is me.