Tree House

It felt like some leftover
leftovers, a repast
of 1st Supper’s Last
many centuries ago.

With slight trepidation
I crouch & crawl and creep
for those magickal, I seek
(wee) beings hidden in Forest deep
from sleeping eyes
who long have forgotten
how to see
no less, believe.

My soul recognizes what
I try to remember.
Older than my consciousness
& ancient in Forest lore ----
my spirit guides
as I open my eyes
to reunite
with magick amidst
the Forest floor.

I am home.