Did you ever see the whistling man of the woods?
Neither did I!
But long before dawn, when the sky is grey,
I have heard him whistling.
Just before dawn, when the wood is black
Like the inside of a hat,
And the sun is poking his great red nose over the hilltop,
I have heard him whistle—clear,
Like the call of a bird.
And I have seen and heard strange things—
Thin grey shadows gliding among the trees,
The hushed crackle of dry leaves,
The snap of a limb broken.
And a little child told me of a wisp of white hair
Found hanging from a dogwood tree.
No posts