Evening frost, silver laced and crystalline, settles its placid veil over the Forest trees of Sycamore and Black Walnut….
Secret guardians shimmering and creak under the primeval glow of moon.
She walks upon ground, ancient loam with secret life buried, returning unto her….
Her thought lullaby moves and dances to form
All that she cannot speak.
The Forest will hold this sacred alliance until flame fire untie
An eve as sweet as clove, bathed in silver moon and silent wind…..
She will go before me, through the Dark Forest, as guardians of night.