White Pine Oblation

Your Magesty

I am listening.

I am at your service.

Guide me right for healing.

What lovely cones you bear,

with jewels ancient and glossy.

What fragrant sweet perfume you wear,

your needles sewn with care.

You are regal, yet humble,

a forest sorceress.

You heal and feed,

and soothe every need,

A ministree, you are.

My Queen,

I see the peace in your arms

as you stroke the winters chill

as you caress away the ills.

I feel the cure in my throat

as a tingly coat

and a balm to my every wound.

Your spell casting gaze

and owl hiding ways

I honor and offer you praise.

May I speak for you, touch for you

weave a fancy tale

for you, lead me through

the labyrinth of troubles

with your color of emerald;

a poultice on my soul.

I am listening, speak

whisper, to me through your shape,

body, sap, seeds, and needle. Roots like

lovers to rocks and branches like whirling dervishes

reaching yet bowing

floating yet steadfast

ever green yet evolving

prehistoric yet prophecy,

Commanding presence and quest,

seeker and song.

I am listening, opening, to you

My Emerald Queen.

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