The Woods are Crooning

 A curtain of clouds
Pulls back, revealing the sun;
Then it's gray again.

 Sun light  all around;
Teasing us in the bushes.
Then, it vanishes.

 

 Shadow of a leaf
Gently passes by my head;
Then I feel a touch.

Blue blooms guard the road;
Shiny Pampas looks skyward;
I follow shadows.

Empty wooden bench
Doesn't need any behinds
To make it stately.

Shadows on the road
Disappear as the clouds come;
Silent dry leaves fall.

Forest begins to sing
High pitched song but not screaming;
The woods are crooning.

A most gentle breeze
Carries smells of wood fire;
Then takes them away.