Settled atop a scabrous stone, rippled with mossy strands Weathered coarse throughout aeons of shepherding travelers I perch, a progeny of the vast woodlands It is here I inspire, the cartographer’s eidetic recollection The artist’s dexterous finesse, and the bard’s merry wit As I have performed for those lost in essence A breeze sails in on wings of articulation And I catch the whispers of the deep Autumn zephyr Many by the birds, in the arias they sing to me But certainly none astray amidst Her sheltered domain Stolen away beneath...