Tall grass whispers
and shivers—corn stalks,
barley, rye—combs smoke,
softens wails in its labyrinth heart.
Tall grass must always speak when
wind summons, and follows the
wandering traveller in
celebrating midnight’s mystery.
Stillness invades the tall grass,
eyes of fire part its silent waters,
weave deep and meticulous messages that
calmly whisper back, “We apphrehend.”