Who hears the voice of rock, of tree, of vole?
Who steps in silence,
through forests damp and dim?
Who leaves no trace of passage?
Lives once lived,
In autumn’s dancing color,
Danced as well.
Now gone,
To sleep in dreamless ether.
But walk through forest paths,
In footprints left
beneath the duff and detritus
of years,
and wonder
what remains?
Who trod here once?
Who left their sigh?
Drifting vague, through treetops
Sway and shiver?
No fear, but know
The air is limned,
the line,
The shape
Not gone, but drifting,
vague, in treetops sway
and shiver.
What a serene picture you just painted. :)
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