In the grey,
a winter's day,
the quiet sound of our footsteps
Up the lane.
And the stark lonely trees,
cut out against the clouds,
loom like desolate, friendless wraiths.
And the fields so quiet.
The skies a strange, empty hush.
And then, in the distance we see a herd of twenty horses
at full gallop,
their riders lying against their backs it seemed,
as though listening to their heartbeats.
Flying through the fields. Flying!
And my heart beats. My heart beats.
Wins out over the quiet fields, beyond the oppressing gloom,
and above the unnatural silence that rings in the air.
And there it is,
what we were missing.
Something like the breath of the forest,
the breathing trees.
A murmur in our ear, whispered close against our skin.
And so, together we walk on,
a faint brightness clinging to the light on the trees ahead.