Above the bush line

Scattered stones and weathered bones

Secrets mountains hide

With an angry growl

And a stern and steady frown

I stand here alone

This spruce wilderness

A monoculture desert

Tunnel vision reigns

As I climb higher

I forget what’s behind me

Look only ahead

Nature never stops

Turning sunlight into life

I will play my part

You’ve been holding us

High above the forest floor

Longer than memory

The rain became warm

Days grow deep and long and slow

Everything is green

Squeeze me inbetween

Floating cloud and still river

The banks brink breaks brooks

Once we wore feathers

To measure our victories

Now it’s followers

Morning halos buds

With glowing glistening gold

Is this story told?

Though May be full out

The arctic blast makes me doubt

I’ll e’er cast my clout

Your warbling song call

Too fast for me to follow

Still settles my heart

We too inhale this

Pungently infectious scent

Our ancestors smelt

A sea of clover

Shows us which way the wind blows

But questions still grow

Fire, food, friends, fortune

Is not the things you possess

But the things you share

Reeds whisper when blown

Let the current take me home

The heron has flown

Time cannot be made

Can’t beg, borrow, steal or save

Ticking to the grave

Ripples on the stream

Where to paddle is to dream

We make our own steam

Life is made of days

Though they all must pass away

Make memories stay

Tarmac rivers flow

With noisy choking splutter

Buried in culverts

Rising from the swamp

Ancient hawthorn still clings on

Waiting for no one

Between joyous shrieks

Frogs leap across busy creeks

Silence slowly sleeps

With the marshes drained

And every mystery explained

Where does magic lay?