I took a jaunt along a forest trail this morn,
And immediately I start to feel their eyes,
Tiny eyes like fireflies all about,
The Kodama,
Infantile spirits of the boughs,
Bodies of moss and sage,
Slinking trunk to trunk,
Trees all bound by shimenawa,
Homes of woodwork and onmyo,
Lithely they rush around in innocence,
I do not interrupt their games,
They mean no harm to a traveller,
But only to romp amongst the jade,
But as I have been told before,
Dare not nick the trees skin,
Lest their mischief becomes your misfortune,
A curse of a yokai perhaps,
Instead they whisper a prayer to this respectful walker,
A blessing from the spirits,
I leave the forest rejuvenated,
Their frolics continue amidst the mystical leaves.