Beneath a shadowed canopy of green
Shrouded from the morning's burning eye,
A stranger in this kingdom wander I
Through underbrush and sheltering branch unseen.
Here gold and silver lose their glossy sheen,
And thoughts of towers vanish with a sigh.
Wheeled and pulleyed fancies unchained fly
Departing from the grace of the machine.
I hear the coyote baying at the moon
"So let the wolf within you be released!"
As hunger greets the crying of the loon,
A shrilling shriek to herald a grisly feast.
Beneath the gales of wild woodland tune,
We're one, my soul, the angel and the Beast.
George Chadderdon © 1993