Crow, from high, watches them pass.

Dark eyes, casting no judgement, wonder

That they see without seeing, move

Without purpose, a strange dance

Ancient Oak, old god of the forest,

Stretches to embrace those that forget

that, at his bark they rested and felt

the touch of leaves holding the wind.

Water streaming 'its melody from

bank to root and hidden stone,

calls the names to those who pass

that they would hear The Song of All Things

once more.