The Council

Behold, the council of trees
Nested atop the verdant slope
Surveying the vales
For the the western wind

The knights, they protect the king and queen
Royal bark oozing amber
We feel their gaze
On our rain swept backs
Piercing the returning mist

Lancelot stands proud
With weapons of wood
Brandishing and blazing
Towering and swaying

They murmur to one another
Telling secrets of old
Wondering if we'll leave
Before we're told

Silence
Deathly still
A moment to ponder
Then
Whistling through the willows
Shrieking through the trees
The gale returns
To greet the dales


Shiver, shiver, blink, blink
Its time to go
Over the brink
So we bid adieu
To our woody friends
And leave the council of trees.