" The Green Man "
I am a kiss that wakes the long dead winter,
a sleepsong that rouses new heart beats.
I am air and water, the fruit on the vine.
I am tomorrow, with memory in ancient tales
that told of rainbow colour, woven in rich greens,
my roots delve beyond the painted caves of Lascaux
I'm mineral, plant and animal, with touch of divine,
the tree of life grew the column of my spine.
In thickly forested places, I am the wood,
the wood is me. In earth I am the stone,
the stone is me. Carpenters and stonemasons
discovered me, formed myriad faces that grin
and gurn, add lustre to my mystery.
I spew forth a fruiting vine from antlered head.
My breath blows upon the wings of time, from fingers
that pay homage to the dome of the sky,
sycamore, beech and oak leaves twine
with tendrils that flourish round my face.
My wildness is the preservation of the world,
there's no city where man will recognise my grace,
illumination comes where nature is unfurled.
© 2003 Zephyr
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