Kevin G Hare

Before the time of urban plight

There was the realm of magic and might

When races of Earth varied more

Than colour, religion or country shore

 

One beast of wood from ages ago

Blue skinned and wrinkled from head to toe

Aptly named Bark, a troll was he

Voice of an old dog, hide of an oak tree

 

Of man he thought as wild and savage

Always on horse for a village to ravage

Great trees he’d fall, great walls built up

Then spilled his wine from golden cup

 

So Bark stayed hid where fierce men roam

Deep in the forest in his sycamore home

Caring not for man and his foes

But tended instead to gardens of rose

 

Happy was he all short and round

Digging away with fingers in ground

For his love is spent on things that grow

This beast of wood from ages ago