The Dancing Faun

Far off in the distance,

A Harper plucks a thread.

From where I work, I start to hear

It ringing in my head.

And so I turn and look across

The field into the trees,

And gaze upon a dancing faun

Who bounds away from me.

I set aside my tools and rise

To follow after close,

And seek the haunting melody

That rings throughout my bones.

As I proceed, the trees reach high

And dim the winding path.

Far off in the distance

The harp turns to a laugh.