Not a word but a rumble
inaudible to humans,
soil set trembling
by beastly vocal cords.
News passing miles away
to the soft foot pads
of a browsing herd
that pauses for translation.
Water hole alerts
to fire and predator,
shouts of birth, sighs of death
carried on low vibrations.
The bass drum of nature’s
orchestra beaming a code
older than cuneiform,
timeless as the proboscideans.
