We croon love songs under the moon
to our groves and the forests around us
nobody minds, perhaps nobody hears
but dryads grant us knowing looks

We are luminous and yet thin as reeds
these, we, the multitudes that join us
part of the earth and shaped by the Divine
we have wings of fire and feet like roots

The glimmering stars they burn like embers
and I wonder how they can be so cold
the wind carries their cool indifference
through limb and bough, across the trees

New life pushes forth and finds its way
through our hands, we and us, by our hands
would that every blade of grass were a soldier
to be satisfied is all that is asked for


Penned by my hand on the 9th of Midsummer, in the year 179 MA.