The trees are heavy laden 
with the newly fallen snow,
in this world he calls his own.

He drifts beyond the edge,
where trees and meadows meet
and life and death walk hand in hand.

See him standing in the shadows,
then with the shifting of the wind,
gone without a trace.

He is the wisdom of the forest
and he dances on the breeze
like silent whispers.

He is the quiet watcher
of all that walk this earth,
and spirit of those who’ve gone before.




 feb 2004
© Janet Reid