The Whispers Of The Wheat Poem by Michael Walker

I can hear the whispers of the flowers,
And listen to the trees speak with the breeze;
I hear the brush and rushes talk for hours,
And listen to the bushes' gentle pleas.

Each blade of grass with every weed agrees
That chaff must heed the whispers of the wheat;
Wisterias still whimper when they freeze,
And lilies shriek beneath the beat of feet.

To listen we must first remain silent!
Hear the roses weeping in the morn,
Or the violet bleed from the violent!
Hear the voice of every ear of corn!

The fruit of every vine sings to the sun
Until the seeds die, once the day is done.