To the wooded way I walk alone/In search of a nearer bark/To the forest I am/To the deep green I seek/The knowledge of what is.

And I kneel to limb of soft repose/In hope of a kind response/To the branches I feel/To the dark shade I pray/The dusk and night that must.

In the roots we leave but leaves to be/In need of a pruning sun/To the hearts’ bleed I plea/To the sweet tree I fall/The kiss we drink which does.