In the Dark

Whispers by a wandering brook their speakers shrouded by mist somewhere within the shadowed fog they hide laughing in time with the brook luring me so I’ll follow their call and venture far from the path till I lose my way in the dark. Songs sung by rustling golden leaves screen their singers from view behind autumn foliage they snicker a sweet tinkling on the breeze snaring me in their well made net Till I see with growing sorrow that the woodland path is gone: I’ve lost my way in the dark. Silence in the silver moonbeams illuminates their figures with light around us sits the mist caressing the golden leaves obscuring the world from view. A peal of bell like giggling breaks into the dark.