Melting Pot et vin blanc doux

jeudi 10 janvier 2008

Heard in the night

 
The air smells rain
In ponds of moon light reflected               
Shadows dance slow leaf shaped
Old age gossips of trees 
In the humming of wind
A soft headed old oak
Twitters scattered fragments
Of secret love affairs

 A willow catches them
And bends over the flow
Of underground waters
The tales like an echo

 I have always been told
Whispers a poplar tree
That as for love affairs
After the sun la pluie

 What’s worth a tale of tree
Whispers back a wild rose
I have always been told
Never believe
Never believe
What a tree sees.

photo : http://newilluminati.blog-city.com/living_the_dream__tree_changers.htm