Green woodland spirit with your thousands of soft green hairs
Standing guard in the cool green forest.
Day, with its dappled light, with its sun patches,
Day with its cloud and rain
sees you standing low and firm.
Night, the cool misted night,
Night of an orange crescent moon, the brilliant stars
Falling stars or steadfast stars that will never fall.
Green and greening woodland spirit,
Who sees you?
Mushrooms, fireflies, moths and quick night creatures
under the fixed eye of the owl who will not fail.
A startled porcupine, scuffling in the rotting leaves
sees you and wonders and passes by.
Who sees you, green spirit?
The eye of the owl, the eye of a star, the lens.
And who do you see in the still heat of noon,
In the starlight of night, the dawn mist
In the frost, snow and the dry pine needles?
Who ruffles your fine moss hair?
Who cracks a twig beside you, forest spirit?
Do you sit watching in the rotted wood, in the cool shade-fed moss?
Are you there, woodland spirit?
Are you safe on my camera roll, in my iPad
Are you there, green woodland spirit?