Shapeshifter

Leaving the path Lured by an emerald I wander into the Bog of Names Now I'm stuck fast Calves sorry henges Glued with the silence of newts in the gloaming My leather flask Froze to my hand Globelets of wine rubies on my chin Away away Through the soil Alder roots will draw in me To forge the bell of the tree Peal! Away to the hall of clouds! Out of the gloom A figure approaches Wrapped in a garment of northern light Heaves me free Gives me a potato Escorts me to the edge of town then turns on the heel Failing to hide A tail striped Following always the cusp of night Away away Through the soil Alder roots will draw in me To forge the bell of the tree Peal! Away To the hall of clouds! To the hall of clouds! To the hall of clouds! To the hall of clouds! To the hall of clouds!