Deep in the pinewoods, the girls perform dances,
Echoing the sounds of water over stones
And the sound of wind through the branches.
This is no white band of water nymphs, nor fauns
...
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Lovely poem, Tom. All it lacks is a good picture of those Highland Girls!
I'm useless with pictures. So you'll just have to use your imagination., Kim. Sorry. Some can be supplied in a plain envelope!
You have well captured both the rhythmic turning of a festival dance and the spirit of the woodlands themselves in this fair piece. A delight to read and imagine. Especially in the grey of December. :)