The leaves come alive and shake in the fog
<br>
Like birds, unable to fly away.
<br>
The feary-eyed doe stands enchanted by the log
<br>
Where a tree stood, before a mere day.
<br>
Where a tree roared with the clatter of birdsong,
<br>
There is nothing but the shaky whisper of a mountain stream.
<br>
The heart of the hills waited for too long,
<br>
Spring's return, nothing more than a dream.
