whispering of the green
softly in the breeze
a breath upon the cheek
turning the head with ease
the blades upon the grass
lay down their warring path
calls the maiden trees
softly in the breeze
their melodic siren song
fills the feathery throng
and slips down swaying salix strings
to fill the pool with rings
the music in the air
seems to come from over there
yet when there does become here
the music moves far from near
'tis a dancing deer
as it moves far from near
through the foxfire gloam
when fireflies dare to roam
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