I’ll Go . . .
Where the streams gather
The silver streaks
Kingfishers flash
The moss is soft green
I’ve seen it plenty
But that’s where I’ll go

Under the bright stars
The matted blue clouds
Wind rustles through
Soft aspen branches
I know those leaves well
But that’s where I’ll go

On the woodland paths
Winding into the twilight
Wild glen and puddles
The birdsong is sweet
In the green glow
Warm, waiting, my home

That’s where I’ll go.