The implicit conversation.

The implicit conversation. I have talked with the grass today. Green blades buried beneath frozen snow Listening with the back of my hand For spring's parsed syllables My cold heart seeks relief The snow intrudes upon my sleep The dark night spinning on its silent path Waking I sense the rotation of the earth, And stretch like a cat to catch the drift Of the implicit conversation. C. Waite Phelan is Professor and Chair of the Department ofCommunication at Hamilton College in Clinton, New York.