The Echo

Can it be that the echo listens and speaks at the same time? I wondered this and nothing more, sitting on a quiet cliff, knowing this and nothing more. The eagle soars against the wind, challenging it for fun, gushing now and then. The grass, the daffodils relished it all, the sun, the wind alike. And the clouds? I know not what the clouds said to the grass, the daffodils, for I was wondering about my response, the echo.