Secrets, by Jude kyrie

The secrets that I  keep even from myself.
Are the same secrets  the Blossoms know
when they proliferate the cherry trees in springtime.
even as they prepare to fall like confetti into eternity.

They are the babbling secrets
of the summertime streams.
as its white foamed  waters
bounce stunned
into the jagged rocks of the rapids.

Hush! whispers the librarian
As the rows and volumes of her books
Keep their dusty secrets in her silence .

In the morning  garden
The fluted speakers Of the morning glory
Sing only in silence

Falling asleep in the nightime quietness.
the taunting voices
of the nocturnal whippoorwill
cry their forlorn chant.
Never tell! Never tell! Never tell..