Sometimes I Hear The Sound. Poem by Sandra Kavanagh Josefsson

Sometimes I hear the sound,
of music playing from the woods.
It whistles through the trees,
lilting beautifully amid the buds.

I often wonder who played this
cheerful note.
The music lifts my spirits high.
The words are softly written.
The birds join in, I sigh.

It sounds like nature joining in,
my head is in a spin.
So lovely is the sound.
I wonder where its owner can be found.

And in the midst of my walk,
I see a vision of peace.
Surrounded by many animals,
wanting the music not to cease.

And as I hid behind the big oak tree,
she played so beautifully.
A young woman in cloths of green,
Her fingers so slenderly.

The harp she played was gold.
It looked very old.
From a time when men were bold
and many stories were untold.

This lady who skillfully played
and memorised everyone who stayed.
They listened with a gleam in their eye.
I waited, I could not say goodbye.

The night came and it was time to go.
Whatever happened to her, I do not know.
The sound appears from time to time.
Between the birch and the pine.

Verse: Sandra Kavanagh (c) .