One

The one who asks
In doing tells
A story for the walls
And watching eyes
As well, And every move
Creates a chaos
Swirling into motes of dust

Rows upon rows
Ordered in line
The gusting wind
Rustles dry stalks
Unheeded by closed ears
Of corn or students
Longing for something

The pieces each strive
For themselves
With little care to the workings
Around them
And yet depend upon
This cohesion of the universe
The expectation of push and pull
Infinite forces interacting

The soft fall of grain
Feathers on the wind
A whisker brushed along the length of glass
Trickle in these moments
Tall and slender
With the booming of the others
Who announce their size and manner
Loudly, In the same still tones
Of bells under water