Well after midnight having walked the pathway
deep into the forest I noticed when the steam began
hanging low to the ground the chirruping crickets
faded into the distance interlaced with odd susurrations
in the mist occasional caws of crows from the horizon
approached every now and again sometimes they could
be heard flaking apart further off in the darkness.
Other times the leaves were heard to be whispering
low when the winds died down secrets too faint
to discern lost on cascades of fading laughter left
behind in the wake of a passing babbling brook.
The river tells all in its myriad language of forking
tongues every little stream wending and winding
its way into the mainland the latest filament
to reach out for a long drawn out taste of the sea.
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