Song of the Moonhart

Unnatural silence in the forest today.
There's nary a rustle, no giggling of fae.
Birds all departed, or have nothing to say.
Moonlight has stolen the colors to grey.
The spirit is missing, the life drained away.

What shadowy gloom left the forest so pale?
The leaves without color turn shriveled and frail;
The fae cannot dance with the music curtailed;
The people discouraged, life weary and stale;
Imbalance of elements to no avail.

A single song sparrow, so humble and plain,
A struggle for courage, the fear to contain,
She warbles, perhaps only to entertain;
Against the dead air and the silence it strains,
A song full of longing and triumph and pain.

It seems that the silence will swallow the song,
At first weak and tiny, then more and more strong,
Wind's song and water and leaves sing along,
The colors of life restored where they belong,
Ethereal spirits drive away all that's wrong.

The forest now vibrant, the spirits attest.
Yet weary and worn as she seeks out her nest,
The sparrow falls silent, a much-needed rest.
Will once more to silence the land acquiesce,
Or will it, inspired, forever stay blessed?