Green Ghosts

the ghosts live in these trees
and leave their breath upon the leaves
and where their fingers rest
doth grow the moss of winter’s end
they are spirits of the old times
who spake in song and measured rhyme
their poetry is lost
save for the roots in which it’s written
verdant lines in seasons alter
their truth however never falters
life began in this green wood
and given time….and rest from men
you may be sure…it will again