The Old Druid

Oh, to be a butterfly
riding waves of wind.
I am the Butterfly,
she is me.
We are One,
we are Free.
Butterfly, she dances
for a grandmother conifer,
drawing my eye to her.

To the Druid,
the Mighty Oak is King,
but the Pine Tree
does it for me.
Lovely Pine Tree
protects and gives privacy
to those who scamper
beneath her eaves.
She has no leaves
to drop in Fall.
All in all,
she stays tall and full
year ‘round,
standing her ground,
whistling her sacred song
when the spirit we call ‘wind ‘
comes along
to speak with me
through the Pine Tree.

Her branches
reach toward heaven
seeking her boon
like an old Druid
‘drawing down the moon.’

Surrounded
by precious Pines,
it’s here I feel most “at home.”