Whispers,
In the midnight breeze,

They speak softly,
So gently,
Little secrets,
To the chosen leaves
On the sleeping trees.

In harmony,
Songs are sung,

Carried in the wind -
Nature's sacred secrets
On the branches,
Are now, no longer hung.

Can you hear the call
Between the heavens
And the trees,

Flowing through the air,
Dancing on the seas?

These whispers
Pass through,
Gathering all the leaves
That they need to take...

Cleansing the earth -
New leaves to be born
When nature gives birth;
Such songs are sung,
Before you wake.

By Lady R.F ©2016