Old Bones, Green Soul

An ancient soul in modern thread, A Druid's heart, though years have fled. The Smokies rise, a hazy blue, My temple, where the old gods grew.

No woad I wear, no mistletoe crown, Just hiking boots on hallowed ground. My staff, a sturdy, White Ash limb, A whisper of an ancient hymn.

The internet hums, a distant drone, As I seek out a standing stone. The Wi-Fi flickers, weak and slow, But nature's wisdom helps me grow.

I check the forecast, rain or sun, Then greet the dawn, my day begun. A cup of coffee, dark and deep, While ancient secrets softly sleep.

I prune the elder, tend the yew, And watch the rhododendron bloom anew. My smartphone stills for bird's sweet song, Where ancient spirits still belong.

The bears still roam, the wild still calls, Though cabins rise and tourist stalls. I find my peace in verdant glade, A modern Druid, unafraid.

My bones may creak, my hair turn gray, But wisdom gathers, day by day. The mountains whisper, old and wise, Reflected in these aging eyes.

So let the world spin fast and free, The ancient roots remain in me. A guardian of the mountain's soul, Making modern fragments whole.