Whispered Into The Ground, by William Stafford

Whispered Into The Ground

Where the wind ended and we came down
it was all grass. Some of us found
a way to the dirt – easy and rich.
When it rained, we grew, except
those of us caught up in leaves, not touching
earth, which always starts things.
Often we sent off our own
just as we’d done, floating that
wonderful wind that promised new land.

Here now spread low, flat on this
precious part of the world, we miss
those dreams and the strange old places
we left behind. We quietly wait.
The wind keeps telling us something
we want to pass on to the world:
Even far things are real.

by William Stafford, from Stories That Could Be True, 1977