Footsteps

how slowly fade the softest sounds when tiny footsteps touch secret pathways pattering there in the dreaming wilderness as small birds perch and brightly flicker winning haven to haven shy among the leaves still fresh with rain as they chatter and chirrup seeming wingless they endear the mystic tide while young ears gather the notes like crumbs storing each for a quiet winter free at play with eyes that sparkle moment to moment indelible as the dawn upon the starry night bringing memory from the edge of light to be alive in our hearts like ripples or wavelets warmed by the sun at idyll