Your Leafy Voice
F. Price
May I who so loved woodlands,
When my body goes back to nourish grasses,
The nettle and rose,
Find your hand outstretched to guide
My bewildered spirit back,
Down the path of the wind,
And the blinding zodiac,
To some wooded hillside slope
Such as now I see,
And crying in your leafy voice,
Open sesame!
Bid my homing spirit
Welcome to a tree