Wilderwalk

Morning wakes my sleepy head,

and after coffee, eggs and bread,

I wilderwalk the day away

with feathered arms and legs of clay.

 

Quiet greets me like a friend

on seldom trodden paths that bend

through forest, field and golden grass –

how slowly now the time does pass.

 

I listen to the barred owl’s call

and climb upon the woodland wall,

to hold the cloudless sky in sight

and look upon approaching night.

 

Tomorrow I shall do the same,

for ‘tis the meaning of my name

to gather firewood and cook –

to skip a stone and walk alone

beside the babbling brook.

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