The Canon Whisper'd Through the Swaying Leaves

An Introduction Last the Quill Inscrib'd

I wander 'neath th'arcade of vaulted boughs

with sunlight speckling th'underbrush's growth

and moonlight's silver rays filtrated through,

by day and night, the slanting gold and white

that lights this silent grove of poplar trees.

I was a Scholar once, in younger days,

who set away from home at the behest

of her clairvoyant prioress who saw

in someone, whom she'd hosted, something great—

though wonderful or terrible, I still

have yet to see discover'd since his death

those decades gone upon the River's fall.

And death, I'm still uncertain is the word

for what's become of him, or else I fear

my visits to this grove are evidence

senility hath overtaken me.

I wander 'neath the broad and spanning leaves

providing cool and dark across this place

and wonder how these mystifying woods

so possibly did come to manifest

upon this land which once was fields plow'd.

Upon this land which hous'd me for a time

of boredom in my life before twas lost

to tragedy, intolerance and flame,

and then abandon'd shamefully by him

t'repress so futilely within himself

until his path return'd him here, whereat

he left a parting gift upon a grave

to which I make my way by shaded wood.

I wander 'neath an open Sky upon

arriving in a glade wherein there stand

two poplars close together be'ng subsum'd

within a Cairn to which the folk in town

nearby have added stones so ardently.

They've no idea what they build upon,

but give to it despite, for what it means

to them is something they've applied to it—

a meaning form'd a generation gone

and given to their children to uphold

and consequently morph, though harmlessly,

to something powerful inside their hearts

of origin and journey, hope and loss,

betrayal and forgiveness of our wrongs.

I wander 'neath the gaze of th'rising Cairn

and come upon a shrine of wood and stone

wherein an effigy resides upon

a sort of altar made to pay respects

and kept of moss and growth by visitors.