Rising Silence - Poem by Patti Masterman
Dryad of the tangled forest,
Where do you hide your instruments?
You know the clouds see your nakedness,
And the moon, your coquetry.
But why should you sleep all alone-
Except, you do not sleep;
Up at any hour, playing away
Songs that the mortals cannot hear,
The forest holding its breath in awe:
Caught under your spell, not to break the rising silence..
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