Cary Briel

I will answer, but I first
As sifting through astonied time
From all your visions must decide
To whom it is I will reply;

I look amidst the day’s thick clouds
The stony hills, the green treed groves
Mountains, valleys do abound
As thick, black forests muffle sound;

I find one clear eyed as the snow
She comes alone amidst the wood
And waits for me as owls peep through
From slumbered story whence they flew.