The darkness settles upon the hills,
glades tumbled in dewy green

The moon whispers to its children
and they arise from the porous silence,
unearthly

and with them they carry the whispers of the moon
between the feathers of their lacy wings

and soon they float among the hills
showing no shadow in their mother’s glow 

And they whisper to the trees
“For long from dead limbs have you shed your leaves, arise
dear mothers and children of the earth to which you are bound.
Join with us, the whispers of the moon.”

The trees, now husks
do not whisper in the age,
in their wisdom
for never was their way.

but they follow the children of the moon
Knowing well,

with them they take the flowers
the birds
the bees
and the eternal song of their leaves.