Raising Woodland Creatures

The wonder in your eyes is palpable,

Deep in your iris fires sure to start.

Your consciousness still growing, malleable,

These tender years a time to shape your heart.

And so we teach you: dogwood, river, wren;

These things are sacred, precious, magical.

They are a part of you, and you of them.

Allow their quintessence to shift your soul.

S'mores at dusk and stream-side hikes at dawn;

We don't pick flowers; we don't leave a trace.

These trees will be here long after we're gone.

The night sky soothes the soul and offers grace.

Mothers and dads, to change the world for good,

Show them the gentle magic of the woods.