Light sings through the woods like wind,
gold and shadows are its song,
it passes through them as through lace,
praising their interweavings

Late in the day, when ground
has passed to shadow,
the tops of trees still glow, still sing —
those heads first tousled by the morning
are last to see the sun’s rays leave.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 31, 2018

photo by Pam Cassel