I shall becoming back to you
From seas, rivers, sunny meadows,
glens that hold secrets:
I shall come back with my hands full
Of light and flowers...
I shall bring back things I have picked up,
Traveling this road or the other,
Things found by the sea or in the pinewood.
There will be a pine-cone in my pocket,
Grains of pink sand between my fingers.
I shall tell you of a golden pheasant's
Will you know me?
Contributed by: Tracy Phaup