Every leaf has its throne,
In gold and blood a daring sun,
To sleep secure in violet crowns
And blow on storms with cotton-grass.
To gather birches in heavy clouds
And wither wings by moonlight’s guard
So peaks can dim and seize the snow
And draw their lines on greying stone.
* For more Nature Poems, click here: https://talesfromthefairies.wordpress.com/2016/09/30/pans-flute/