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.