The wind blows secrets through the trees
And they parade just past my ear
There are some stories carried by the breeze
But very soon they fade away and then disappear.

Cobwebs flap in the mid afternoon silent wind
Like lacy tablecloths for the fairies and elves
Mushrooms for seats and pebbles for benches
And anything else they can get for themselves.

Secrets and sometimes lies are fed through the wood
The bark on the tree will be the judge in that court
Squirrels gather nuts from deep underground
Secret gatherings if they happen to fall short.

The weather seems fit for a golden promise
Promises are made to be kept not broken.
The wind now a speed fit for a howl and a growl
And other adjectives if they could be spoken.