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.