Regiment of Wood
What do I see in this regiment of wood ?
Ethereal presence in a light that's stood
in mists of light, yet grey or bright,
broken, decayed, brittle I could
not say.
Saplings or spear doth the warrior hold ?
Frosted form a giant we are told.
Does he, she, it hang? It's feet not lit,
standing tall beyond branch-ed
gateway.
From me to him, a beacon of light ?
An ancient torch that burns a bit brighter
in the form of a Y that questions
my being. His soul lies here in this wood
of grey.