Voices travel through the trails of wood
Shady and eclipsed
They shrug in the clays of mud.
Forest isn’t what they seek,
Above those cracks they peek
Say it louder, shouts the dethroned owl
For the night has only dawned for the voices
As the mist melts through window
And elks plunge out of meadow
The voices bleat and blurt, tremble to be heard
Wrapped in pun, impale upon sun
Left a song they sung
“Befreie die Hoffnung”
So lays the German forest in vision
As iotas of glitter glisten.
The monarch unshackled its prison
To flutter it’s frozen wings in benison.