The trees seemed to gallop

Across the face of the wind

Moved mimsily with the invisible tide.

The groves with their vines

Swayed ever lightly

With the force of the cool morning.

Many a weary traveler advance

Through the misty woods

But none lay eye on the deep brooding secrets.

Many a tired troubadour proceed

And none stop to see the sinister and forbidding unknown.

Yet it is there

In the way the birds sing

And the amphibians croak.

The clandestine tales from long ago

Tell clearly of that of great importance

And those who wish to see shall

Through the ruffling of the trees

The secret of present and future.