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The woods spoke in a quiet whisper,
rustling their leaves together in an ancient rhythm;
understood by few.
The fern son either side of the path waved quietly.
Out of sight the tributary babbled, flowing to the river.
She walked along the path twigs snapping under her feet,
wind breading her hair into knots.
rustling their leaves together in an ancient rhythm;
understood by few.
The fern son either side of the path waved quietly.
Out of sight the tributary babbled, flowing to the river.
She walked along the path twigs snapping under her feet,
wind breading her hair into knots.
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