9

Retiring to the trees, we take our sleep. The gentle lull of timbers and the slow deep creak. We hang from the canopy on fabric made taught, to glide through the air, on our magical cot. As the forest turns around us, we find our delight. As trees sway and camber, all through the night. Our heads will be warm by hats that we wear. For when we wake from slumber, our hearts will be bare. For the trees they do calm us, on these nights of chill air. As our homes they will keep us, safe from the bears. My wife does sleep close, so that we may not part. And apart we won’t drift, intertwined as a pair. As dawn light breaks on our sleeping brows, we rise from our cribs as young baby sows. The heat it alights our bodies a glow, to bring new to the world, our love shall it grow. The day is a joyous triumph to be seen, a treasure to keep close an eye to be keen. And as the time passes and the trees they do sway. A tale will unfold, of our love each day. Our souls are renewed on this grassy glade, each year we give thanks and return just the same. We shall forever praise the glory of this hallowed place, always giving more than we must take. The wood for our heat, the meat for our bellies, the trees for our home, this place is aplenty. Our children will come and take from the glade. We will show them the bounty and to never be afraid. They will grow and love here and forever give back. For that is the cycle of our unspoken pact.

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