THE HILLSIDE COMES AWAKE
Some say that it is sleeping
But the land here is awake
In the flowering vines that climb the trees
And the rings that faeries make
Sap moves in the sugar trees
Blue iris paint the lake
The heart renews its vision
When the hillside comes awake
The wisdom of the wild place
Restores our second sight
In the darkest groves of hemlock
I have seen the bristling light
In the deepest part of winter
When the ice holds still the lake
Our hearts, they guard the vision
Of the land when it awakes
Should the faeries trick you
And your berries fall to blight
What winter winds may wither
The sun restores to life
We mourn our stolen vision
When the flowers fall to frost
In the deepest part of winter
When the light is nearly lost
Boughs and branches quake and bend
Before the winter thaw
The redwinged blackbirds sing again
In the wild fens and bogs
The earth gives rise in ebbs and sighs
In yellows and in greens
New daffodils have sprung to life
Beneath the sugar trees
The forest floor is rising
Ferns fumble toward the sun
The hermit thrush is back again
She sings her ancient song
The melting snow, it sinks below
To meet the rushing stream
The treefogs and the summer toads
Awaken from their sleep
The wisdom of the wild place
Restores our second sight
In the darkest groves of hemlock
I have seen the bristling light.
