Poetry: Whispers

My ears itched the other day
voices caught up with me
traveling the speed of wind
words skip across 
time like stones
sidarmed into ripples
a beach full of onlookers
feet crunch atop the pebbles
casting a stone
planting a seed
growing a flower
pulling a weed
karma may be as gardens
tended by the faithful
producing understanding
catching up to us all 
gifts in hand
***