The Elk of the North

Now the Elk of the North is a rather old thing,

Its place in the world is the upper-most ring.

Its legs are like oaks, of great strength and height;

On its back lay the mountains of cold, stony might.

Within its dense coat, the old green forest lies,

And rivers, like tears, stream down from its eyes.

The great northern gusts sail out from its mouth,

And make their way down to the warm of the South.

And from its great crown sprout saplings anew,

To hold up the moon in a sea of deep blue.