hidden, somewhere in a glade of light and darke, quiet shadows......but above the mountains, high in the treetops, the green leaves
talk in our language.
the winter's night of sleep that endless as it wears our hearts to the ground, has disappeared, has lightened into a hidden land, a secret land, a land, nowhere to be found, but as it slips back into the light, we remember it......the winter.
but now, the leaves speak in our words......
they use our tones and our quiet whisperings and songs......
if we do not hear the leaves, our hearts are filled with too many clatterings and hinderings.
the g r e e n green leaves shiver and dance so gently in a breath of a wind, in a solitary shaft of movement, not quite a breeze, but a lilting and a softening.