Green Man
GREEN MAN
His whisper is there, from sapling and tree,
A lost ancient tongue but not lost to me,
Listen more carefully to rustle and creak,
Clear your mind, you may just hear him speak.
His origins veiled in the deep mists of time
Nonsensical words filled with rhythm and rhyme
Paths well trodden through soil, sand and rock,
As he tends to his life giving, leaf bearing flock.
I spy him in forest,in copse sometimes glade,
Look to find him where sun meets the shade,
Always resplendent, adorned all in green,
Only revealed if he wants to be seen.
Yet we are old friends, he nods, tips his hat,
Beckons me forth, for our time honoured chat,
In words long forgotten he babbles away,
Brings joy to my soul for the rest of the day.
Shadows do lengthen his words start to slow,
What passes between us? Well only we know,
We say our farewells, smiles upon faces,
He turns an heads off to his half hidden places.
I stand alone somewhat sad but refreshed
Acutely aware, never doubt I am blessed,
One final glimpse as he skips through the trees,
Haunting farewell from Green Man, on the breeze.
Copyright © Rick Still | Year Posted 2020
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