Don’t tell

I have it mastered now
I tell myself - and laugh 
a happy laugh but ne’er do tell - 
the secret’s safe with me
I say – and yet – 

Don’t tell the bear or bees
of what I’ve done - 
they love to talk

Don’t tell the birds
or the bards who ballads 
lead – they toss it back 
and forth as if a prize

Don’t tell the road the children 
walk upon – their footprint shouts 
so loud that the entire village 
knows – or so it seems – and then
they start reliving through their dreams 

Don’t tell the stars- they’ll tell the sun – 
and a secret’s something known by one
the sun will likely tell the clouds 
and the thunder and the lightning – 
if they come

Don’t tell the cliff, the rocks or valley – 
the lake or winding stream - 
the creek will leak to water’s edge
the frog will tell the rain

Don’t tell the snow or mountain-top - 
the tourist or the tool – the 
physician or the novelist
the villager – the fool

No-one keeps a secret
(once it’s passed on down the line)
it becomes a murmur – 
and into gossip it will grow – 
for only one can keep a secret – 
don’t you know?

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