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!