A Snow Dusted Forest

Chervil and sweet, swaying clover,
Who's that I sense with you?
These woods are full of faces, so
Familiar and new.
You still extend your hand after
Beckoning me home,
So I'll

Be the grasses both green and gone to seed,
Hold earth solid here beneath your feet and
See your skyward arc to your fullest bloom.

Though sunlight streams through you,
Wraps your colours warm around me,
Your path is lit by Moon. 
So bid me follow, pluck me free,
And I'll

Be the inchworm a-dancing on the breeze,
Feel the shiver of your voice through me--
And be reborn to carry you on wing.

When
You're standing at the cliffs,
About to shed your antlered crown,
Hold fast verdant vision
And know these hands will join with yours.
And we'll

Be soft solace cast wide by Winter moon,
Be made mirror to reflect your light,
And melt into the first sips of your Spring.
And melt into the first sips of your Spring.