Whisperer -- silent she floats through the trees of her

Choice, and the time of her breezes is none but of

Own; Inspiration and She are as one, unified,

Sighing through treetops who bow with her

Breath.

Now, O Enchanter, allow me to see all the

Signs of your work! Where you've come all the leaves have been

Shook from their limbs; Where you've left even branches will

Proudly remember departed stalks. Some boughes have

Snapped.

Wanderer -- gently and scarcely felt by beholders,

She, Inspiration, glides on toward others, gath'ring

All the aromas from previous hosts, so to

Sprinkle on new prey, who gains from the woods left by

Wind.