The Song of Trees

The wyrd ways
The ancient paths
Knowledge of the olde
Trees are rest and peace
And gateways to the worlds

Trees are boats, and fire
Tools, and wood,
Are weapons, and lyre, stools and root

Come mother willow
Dance brother fir
Sing sister poplar
Speak father oak

Listen to the songs
Drum on the skins
Catch rain that falls
Dance with the wind

So mote it be
In wind we sway
Future develops
For change we stay

As we sing, and hum, and swish
Grow child, dance, do as you wish
But once you rest do come back home
Lay your head on bark and bone

Dream life into being
Guide the dead away
Heal our sick ones
Hand over who’s to pay.

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