Visual art by Karina Li

The sound of grass is hard to hear,
The hare may miss its whispers,
Though the hare walks away with glee and pride, the grass stands still.

The thoughts of trees are heard to read,
The hare may miss it’s knowledge,
Though the hare walks away aloof, the tree sways with nothing.

The whole forest knows the hare,
For which its opinion’s heard,
Though the grass and the trees may have more needs and more thought,
Many things fly above them.