The Green Returns

By Elton Wildermuth and Leigh Ann Hussey, 1991

White birch whispering
red oak listening
to the bees at their convent drone
in a scatter of mossy stone
where a chapel used to stand

Altar vested green
ivy chancel screen
as this chapel is overgrown
so the wood will reclaim its own
with a soft intense command

Dust are the men who knelt here;
still are the tongues that prayed,
begging absolution for their
vanishing days.
There are only ruins where
the desolate stones they laid
held the captive earth beneath
the burden of their praise.

When the horned moon rides
the clouds in frantic flight,
we will always gather
to hold the ancient rite,
older than your churches,
wilder than your ken,
silent as the first drawn breath
that named the gods of men.

Barren tree of strife
sprouting leaves of life
where the Calvary prophet lies
young branches reach to the skies
and a figure crouches near

Green eyes glittering
green hair fluttering
in the breath of an ancient breeze
then he vanishes through the trees
leaving only shadows here.