A whisper in the wind.
I wonder who it is.
So I look.
No one’s there.
A murmur in the grass, the trees, the river;
Who is it?
I look.
It’s no one.
What are they doing here?
I ask.
They don’t answer.
It’s okay.
I know they’re there.
The whispers aren’t for me;
I know that too.
I just wonder if they care . . .