Thursday, February 5, 2015


Matthew Cicanese -

The race of ents are treeish men
who tend the trees there in the wood,
would guard them always if they could,
but, full of years, they age and then
they slow and stiffen in the glen,
and with their brother trees they stand
rooted there, but looking grand,
mighty trees till the last day when
they die and merge back with the earth,
one with the soil that gave them birth.

But boyish ents are another thing:
their antics make the forest ring,
for adventures are their greatest hunger,
and every day these ones grow younger,
until at last, just for a lark,
they step out from their treeish bark,
and walk as boys upon the earth,
and fill the air with sounds of mirth.

---------ed pacht