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
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