The Song of the Pennines
A cold winters eve in the north,
The moon full and bathing me in her light
On the still little lake I call home.
The wood calls to me this night,
Like a mother calls her babies,
Treading lightly down the moonlit path,
I search for the answers to the questions in my mind.
The stillness of the forest, the beauty of the Birch,
The smell of the clean Earth,
The sounds of the foxes playing beyond the hill,
A gentle warmth and tingle in my spine.
An old sounding voice makes his presence known,
"Young one, welcome home to a place your kind forgot"
The old Oak seemed to smile as my new path appeared...
Any comments would be appreciated- im new to this path and hope this is ok.