Far down below the willow roots
and breeze,
someone left their soul.
We waited for the full moon
before asking for rights and
protection,
but the first night,
we climbed into every nook
and called the light in.

Somewhere below the yellow moon
and a bird’s wing
someone left their soul.
We waited for the sun to rise high
before we stirred,
ventured into unexplored pockets
of tree trunks so grand,
someone left their soul below
for us to find.