Forestry fae faring

when our world was young
and spirits dance and play
and nature's essence holds sway
we lived around its prismatic light

hand in hand existing
waterfalls thundered
and rainbows were born
among its sprays

Totumolong a pretty sight
slim girth a foot in height
they lived where the moss were
where ferns wrapped rocks

harmony with the spirits
breathing in air invigorating
sipping spring water, pure and clear
we lived with understanding of nature

mountaintops where the water flows
to the valleys and meadows
each cascade poetry recited
with Totumolong, ancient folks

alas as the bulldozers roared
the little ones vanished to other realms
we turned away when the bell rung
and genuflected to a new God

Willows in the wind
bringing ancestral voices...
We learn to listen,
we teach ourselves to be silent.  

Birds sing the song of the ground,
a river of flames crosses the hearts.  
The juice of life sprouting
in the fruits of the air.  

The body submerges in the waters
of eternal universal return.  
Me inside the forest
that is the forest inside me.

I named forests ' Green Rivers,' place of great peace            
the green's kin, Blue, brings peace in sight of that blue            
of rivers and lakes, blue oceans, the green seas,              
silvered with mental healthy air found in their view.              
               
Our forests rooted out of mind ages ago              
they erased our forests, whittled down the woods,              
and lumbered us with electricities fierce glow              
as memories of woodsmoke fade from neighborhoods...              
               
But there's a little forest left in some folk's mind              
they can find forests down the green lanes and tracks,              
among the hedgerows where forest foods, unrefined,              
can be found and, Oh God, peace, supermarkets lack...              
               
You cannot live on such in my small food Isles              
But, the aroma of wild garlic springs, huge smiles.              
                        ~~~~~~~~$~~~~~~~~~  
 I've translated ' Forestry fae faring ' to " forests for living  "
Unfortunately some of us don't have a forest but, I can dream

 
 
Black boots leave a bus  
as I watch it trundle off
into English dust
 
I pass through a kissing gate
walk past the orchard full
of Beltane blossom
up a dirt track towards
a meadow full of buttercups
and red clover.
 
There she stands
 
Bella, my oak tree
on her own in the midst
of a lone field
 
she who stands with ribbons
tied into her spindles
markers of every prayer
every thought
every wish ever uttered.
 
I sit here sometimes
crouching to reach a crawl-space
formed between dry ground  
and her branches
 
a hidden nest where I light incense,
read cloth-covered books  
full of ancient knowledge
calling out to all I know of this land
 
and I write
and craft
and whittle
 
taking nothing without permission,
making nothing without care.
 
When I am desperate, I seek out Bella
my shelter, my holy place
because this world is full of temples
built of gold and stone
but so few are made of leaves
 
so few anchor us to the purity  
of placing one foot in front of another
hearing the audible grind of that iron gate
and finding refuge from the grind
in some silent universe
 
some sentient form