An Earful

I've heard an earful of wisdom and words

From all manner and color and shape of birds.

The birds' trees, too, they have their say

As through their leaves the wind-gusts play.

The wind itself may speak aloud,

Entwined with storms or far from clouds –

and they, themselves know how to speak

With rain's fall, after lightning's streaks.

Those cracks start fires. They speak in crackles.

They pop-shout, roar, in sizzles cackle.

For this, there's one soft, sure, watery cure.

The water whispers in burbles demure

As it caresses its conspirator – rocks –

Strong, steady, nature's linemen needn't talk.