Listeners In The Woods

What are you listening to
In the woods?
Three gold-framed girls
Picking Bluebells beneath the trees
In your long dresses
Dainty, white beribboned bonnets
The picture of all
Innocence should be.

Three little girls
Is your mother 
Calling you to dinner
All time forgotten
As you play with flowers
Or explore the nest
You have found in the woods.

Or do you listen 
To the precious sounds
Of the birds who
Fly above and ask
In their own sweet way:
'Why are you here?'
Sharing nature in all
Her fullness.

On the forest floor 
You sit in wonder,
Lovers of life
Living that love.
Listeners in the woods
You remind us that 
Only by becoming 
As a little child
Can we see the world
With true delight.

Alex Frew