Picture: Rowanberries (Mountain Ash), Algoma by J. E. H. MacDonald
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Your children, sleigh-bells,
Ring red, orange, and sharp;
It’s Christmas every day.
You stand tall, my little friend;
Ash, beech, and oak, your giant tribe folk,
Respect your trade and your grave.
Feasts of butterflies,
Busy bees and flies,
Loyal bird-midwives.
In essence,
The whole forest thrives.
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When you stop trying to solve the mystery,
You become it.
Birds and butterflies,
Bees and flies,
Rain and trenches,
Leaves and branches.
In essence,
You become more You,
The One and only;
Luó ēn shù.
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Herons