Listening To the Trees

Rustling of the leaves in the trees, From the breeze meandering through the branches, Wistfully like chimes tingling on the porch, A passing shadow of a daunting figure in the dark. Reverberating the echo of the sounds I hear, Magically ringing in my ears. What message do they bring, Is it happiness or fear that they ring. The soft whisper of memories, Reflecting sorrow of forgotten joys, Rejoicing as happier times resurface. While the breeze passes within. The trees glimmer covered with dew, As the rustling stirs thoughts a new, Of days before when shadows appeared, Only now they are inklings of louder fears.