BALLAD OF THE GREEN MAN
Is this the place then, where it begins?
Only since I dreamt the great oak standing
In the woods, so deep in the emerald heart
Among its sentinels, a deer below such a canopy
Whose shy flank quivered like a leaf,
Whose ears trembled lest the air
Betray its death,
Whose damp nose shivered
Tasting the very loam, the fragrant earth
And its sweet shoots in waiting
And the hush was soft as the trees swallowed the light
And a small breeze ran through
As a stream that carried winged fishes
In so many colours, butterflies flickering
And those notes from the throats of wrens.