THE WATCHERS

THE WATCHERS

We forget you are out there,

all snug in  our beds,

we, who sleep so long in winter.

  

  We do know you,

But we forget you are there

  always watching,

deep in the forests,

guarding cloven marked trails ,

bramble houses of hare

and trickster son.

Watching,

not forgetting.

We don’t always hear

the snow crack,

the branch fall, 

nor do we harken

to the tiniest bird wing,

or see the whitetail lift her foreleg

angled and then still

waiting for the light

The Mother orb is tilting tonight,

And there is a brightness at her edges and we can hear

that far sun calling out

“I’m coming.”

Like a boy trudging home from the wood,

he knows.

we know,

if we can just remember.

.

Thank you, O Tannenbaum

   for watching.

Blessings and Hugs

B. Misty Wycoff       Los Osos, California 12/18/14