The Chatterers

Now the trees are bare and the wind is gone, There is no one but the hard-faced girl To hear the light-footed chatterers of the night As they dart amongst the reaching branches, echoing Through the bare wood with their wild cries, Drifting on the wind, their voices lift The silence from the loam, and on the bare ground They stumble between the roots— For they are soaked in laughter, filled with mirth; For she is beautiful who knows their sadness.

• Sidney Keyes