eerily hollow the trees begin to sing
sway amid woods’ embrace
songs without words brush green and deep
held close in summer’s grace
echoes
whispers
carry light
parting
shadowed
dappled right
alighting softly on long forgotten moss
turn into caressing wind
join chanting of leaves’ rustling loss
spirit waits to begin
The Word Rummager 
Very nice, and soothing. I’ve feel as though I’ve been there.
Denise Carr
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Thank you so much for such a lovely comment- I am glad you enjoyed the poem.
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