by Hilda Conkling
Green velvet to look upon.
Shaped and woven of tiny trees
Soft velvet to make a pillow for the birds
Or flowers when they go to sleep,
Velvet rugs for the footsteps of the wind
(Though he leaves no footprints behind him.)
I too have felt that softness:
I have heard the wind pass and return
And stoop down to whisper
Among the trees of the moss-forest.