The Bright Sword

The bright Sword shining, O, what a glorious thing


The blade of the weapon, sharp, in the sun doth glow forth in a wondrous light

The graceful hilt, the deadly blade

The sword bright and shining full of valor and strength


To protect, to defend, to win renown


A merry game a play at sport


A fight a battle against evil and darkness


To fight then to win to win then glory, safety, and peace


The bright Sword shining, O, what a glorious thing.

Green Leaves

The Forrest is changed. I can feel it in the water. I can see it in the Trees. I can smell it in the air.
Much that once was is lost, for there are few now left who remember.

It began last Autumn with the falling of Leaves. Yellow Leaves from The Tulip Poplars, tallest and grandest of all the Trees. Red Leaves from The Maple, young and fair. Cream Leaves of The Birch, lovely and small. For within these leaves was bound the strength to sustain and protect each of the Trees.



But they were all of them deceived, for a new age was coming. In the land of the North, in the glacial Arctic Land, Old Man Winter was planing to destroy them all. He made the Winter Winds and into them he poured all of his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life.

One by one, the Green Leaves of The Forrest fell to the power of the Winter Winds. A last alliance tried to withstand. That proved futile.

For three and a half months the Trees slept. History became legend. Legend became myth. And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. The Green Leaves passed out of all knowledge.


Darkness crept into the forests of the world. Rumor grew in the West, whispers of a nameless wonder, and the Green Leaves perceived. There time had now come.


For the time will soon come when Green Leaves will fill all of the Forrest...


How can I even hope to begin to try to explain how wonderful the Green Leaves are to me? A wonder they are to me. Every day, The Forest becomes greener and thicker, more lovely.


We were truly desperate for the Arrival of Spring and the Green Leaves. I do not mind the cold for the most part, but I should have soon withered away, were it not for the hope of the Green Leaves which I clung to. But that proved difficult: it seemed as though the bare, lifeless Trees were all that there ever had been and all that there ever would be.


I find few things more lovely than the Sunlight shining through the Green leaves, making them a lovely golden color, making each and every Leaf glow with a glorious light. How can one even comprehend such beauty?

O, Green Leaf , fair,
the light upon you shines,

O, Green Leaf, fair,
the wind upon you blows,

O, Green Leaf, fair,
the rain upon you falls,

O, Green Leaf, fair,
how lovely thou art,

upon the mighty

and ancient tree you grow,
yet you are small and fair.

O, Green Leaf, fair,
the light upon you shines.

I do not consider myself one who can put words together, convey exactly what I think about the matter, and make it as beautiful, or anything else, as I see and feel it. In general. It seems, at times that the more inspired I am by something as enchanting as the Green Leaves on the Trees, the more at a loss of words I am.

I can try to explain it, I can even show you pictures.* But what I would really wish, is that you, my dear reader, could come and see how glorious.

*The pictures, by the way, do not even begin to start to do the forest a little bit of justice. I do, however, thank my dear sister, Kae, for taking them.



I am sure that many, if not, all, of you have have trees with new Green Leaves, but "...in every wood in every spring, there is different green."**


I, as you probably already know, have been so wonderfully blessed as to have a forest. Our part of it is not very big and it quite messy in some places, but when the morning Sun rises in the East and shins on the Green Leaves and the rain drops of last nights storm and make it all to glow, none of this matters, for in the end I think that it is the most lovely forest there is.


Well, Dear Reader, this the longest post I have ever done. But still is seems as though there is so very much more that I could say, write a book of it, a volume of sonnets and prose, and yet still never be able to capture in mere writing all of the wonders of The Forest in the Spring.

**J.R.R Tolkien ( One of the few people who could properly describe the wonders of the Forrest)

P.S. I apologize if the beginning of this post does not make much since: is was based on a (very cool) prologue of a movie. I was just sort of...experimenting, if you will. See, a few of the original lines made me think of Winter and Spring, I was going to use just those ones but I got a wee bit carried away. Have a wonderful Spring, my Friend.