The Shadows

Chasing shadows
through the trees and the
moonlight half-aglow and the
rustling of the leaves, the
windy ear, the
owl hoot invisible, the
magnifying flap of
unseen wings and whirrings -
the quest is here, I follow
no trail clear
through the wood  and
out the other side - I am
beguiled by speckled 
moonlight on  my  Scot's
Pines, the wind singing
branches and the
crunch of leaves - how they
tease me these shadows,
benign and pleasing, flitting
flitting through the trees.

previous poem