A rising call across the mountaintops
Shivering in the breeze of a chill morning
Far off the sea shines in the coming day.
The mist here hides wandering spirits
Rustling leaves drown their whispers
As they pass with longing over their homeland
Deeper into the valley
Where the trees grow ancient and tall.
The spirits read stories in their roots
Of worlds come and gone, long forgotten
Hints of what lies at the end of the path.
Some choose to follow the stories away
And the invisible procession grows thin at their leaving
Deep into the trees they go, where stranger voices dwell
And music warning of the edge plays
Where the green world drops away into shadow

Photo by Johannes Plenio from Pexels