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
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