Essence of a Northern Nymph

That whisp of birch,
And steam from spruce,
That bath of ash,
That air unloose.

 

That air unloose,
Guided by breeze,
And formed by roots,
Stretching out to trees.

 

Stretching out to trees,
They tower so dark,
The eyes they tease,
As all stars spark.

 

As all stars spark,
To share stories tragic,
We set our mark,
On heights most magic.

 

On heights most magic,
We peer from perch,
Focus’d our fabric,
And that whisp of birch.