Like a stag through a wood
Stepping I scan my kingdom of grass
And boughs, where birdsong utters mood
In measure of nature’s matin mass:
Scrubjay’s rant and finches' cheer,
Lust of sparrow and raven’s wise
Reedy throat, dove’s scuttling fear
My soul align with festive skies
And stellar storms, with lunar tides
And chants of angelic gallantry,
To my heart attune to seasonal brides
In shadow of wanton fertility.
Through passion’s gale to halcyon pride
With phoenix and butterfly that guide,
Air scent I and herb with myrrh
To sorrow serve and friend the pure.