A Port Alberni back yard owl
If ever you would speak with any tree,
come walking in the forest here with me.
I'll show you the wild mushroom and the root,
but where the ancients gather, set no boot.
If you would speak with nature spirits wild,
you must maintain the heartbeat of a child,
learn riversong and mountain chasm deep.
You must commune with angels in your sleep.
As you step lightly on the pungent moss,
and feel the leaves the winter wind doth toss,
let your spirit fly away among the trees.
It will return upon the morrow's breeze.
I go into the forest dark and deep,
every night after I fall asleep,
become a woodland guardian, reborn.
I do not want to leave when it is morn.
Last night my spirit fought as a black wolf,
against four brown wolves on the forest floor,
This told me that a battle lies before,
my spirit having recognized its door.
Come with me. I will show you secret groves,
moss-hung and ancient in this stand of pine.
Deep in the bracken, where the hoarfrost glows,
the Old Ones are singing Home this heart of mine.
One from the archives of late 2012, my friends. Posting it for the Poetry Pantry.