They had ears but they would not listen,
thus I set forth and sat myself in the heart
of the garden,
pass the loamy bed where grew the dahlias,
the fair blooms swaying their hips to the wind’s arias.I began to converse with the vines, the trees,
and I learnt the language that is spoken by bees.
The podgy, green caterpillar, as it climbed
a herbaceous stalk
one day in early August invited me for a chat, a talk.They had ears, but they would not listen,
thus I sought willing ears in the heart of the garden,
but winter descended and glistening icicles lined the eaves,
eerie silence roamed, I was abandoned too
by the bees, the leaves.