As I walk beside the lake, my time I do take.
I meditate, and share, my happy thoughts by use of the crisp, cold, magickal winter air.
Then my rest, I take beneath this loving old tree, who without complaint shelters me.
My hands I lay upon the bark, my thoughts light, for here there is no dark.
I ask this old grandfather tree; do you know of my old dear long-gone friend Grandmother tree?
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