From the branches, voices whisper
Singing soft low songs, in the breeze
The more we listen, less we hear
From the low chorus of the trees
When we don’t listen, more we hear
Music echoes through the leaves
The chorus of the Tree Spirits
Hiding in shadows like thieves.
Ghosts gone, of an age now long past
When druids loud chants echoed in the air
Appeal, appease, the ancient Gods
Now, nothing but peace, stillness there…
As I walk, beneath, underfoot
Leaves crackling, the only sound
Birdsong, flapping of a bird wings…
I am as one with the sacred ground.