Despite cloudy skies, we paddle our way. Through winding wet places, fun ahead does it lay. We tack our way true, through streams broad and narrow. For the sake of delight, our paddles kept shallow. Gushing water does spray, up into the bow. Cresting each wave, with a hoot and a howl. As the day grows long and the dark it does set. We lash our boat up and make ready our best. A spark for the fire, the kindling does set. The smoke and the heat, to ready our nest. Toes numb with cold, are brought to a boil. We eat fish and fresh things, that we found in the soil. Our beds have been prepped with all the love and care. Like nestling cubs, we retire and sky-stare.
The sound of crackling logs. The smell of chill, crisp, pine scented breezes waft through the air. The dull hoot of an owl languidly hangs above us. Scurrying and creeping critters behind us keeps our senses sharp. My body wants to drift off but I cannot pull away from the rich oil deep blackness of the night sky. Specks of cream roil and churn above our heads as the milky way lays itself out before our prostrate bodies. Warm hands intertwined, coats drawn up and snug socks keep out the chill. We are perfect here. This is perfect here. Time has gone and never ends. The moon is our clock and the sun our timer. Borrowing from the forest to eat and play, but always giving back when the time has come. Our journey is long but it always ends.
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.