Folklore Or Not

The woodland beckons me, calls me within It's musical chorus can be barely heard A mystical presence, a tone prevails in the wind I stumble on wild thickets on the ground Absent of pathways, thorny brambles instead Moving along on foot, not easy I have found Wild sumac, and aggressive vines grows thickly here But this mysterious music draws me further in These woods are an impossible hike I fear Pulling twigs from my hair, I stare A clearing, moss so deep that feet disappear In the dappled light dust sparkles are seen in the air Rapid movements I see to my right The music is stilled, not a sound except Quick tiny footsteps taking flight Folklore of elusive music-playing imps Vanish magically leaving dust sparkles in the air Only a brief glimpse I saw of these tiny scamps A faint single note played, I thought I heard