Song of woods

Flute drifts through slumber
Whispering winds of woods call
So softly
So sweetly
Lulled by the magic
Hooves stamp prints
Captured in the moss
At night they move
Like ghosts through trees
Stopping to listen to a branch breaking
The crack like gunshot
In a silent forest.
Faun waits for her approach
His music sensuous
Hypnotic she moves like a dancer
Quiet steps along the path
Leaves blow around her feet
The cape covers her
Shrouding her in dark shadow.
She feels him near
Her senses alive like a gentle caress
Fingers moving softly
Through her hair to her neck
She shivers and waits
Let him come
Let him find her waiting
He will play the music
For her
He will play her heart
Like notes from his flute
Like a wood song
Of magic.

A faun, as painted by Hungarian painter Pál Szinyei Merse

16 thoughts on “Song of woods

  1. And I too, just popped in to see the news of r Williams…memories of the dead poets society and many great moments and I cry but the stars are hidden by clouds bearing tears from the skies….your words bring me comfort in the night that I have friends and that life is worth living;) I wish more people understood that through their despair:(


  2. Ah, you are astute tonight my friend…glad you liked…can you hear the wooden flute play to the woodland faeries? They are bringing on the rain as we speak:)


  3. Me too, poets and all with a tinge of tired brain, the thought transposes that which needs to be spoken….yep, tired but it’s all Greek to me.


Your words are stars and I humbly thank you for shining your light for me....

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