Last night Brother Dog and me went to my rocky perch on the mountain top, above the clouds it always seems, far away from man, this is a certainty.
I wrapped Brother Dog in his canvass and poncho liner the Army provides, as usual for the Leverworsthond, he closed his eyes, to dream and await the morning sky.
I sat on my perch, the sentinel-seeker was I, when, the temperatures plummeted, The Northwinds howled, an ice storm on them, hitched it’s ride. Ice on my brow and lids it sought that I might close my eyes, with each breath I loosed, on my beard the icicles grew, my garments a tomb of ice as the storm raged and grew, I sat there, still, faithful and true.
It must have been around three or four, I looked about on the forest floor. All the trees, in deep sleep for winter, on them the ice grew too, but The One, The One that commanded The Light, radiance so bright when The Moon broke through.
Upon The Sacred White Birch, no ice did reside, just barely a dew. Around her trunk, her roots sunk deep below, an ice free circumference of ten feet, from her roots and radiance, it grew.
I arose, still encased in my garment icy tomb, went over and laid at her trunk, the magical spot where warmth, safety away from The Ice, she gives freely, from her roots so deep, of dreams yet due.
I awoke with first light, prepared an offering for The Spirit of The Sacred White Birch, left it at her trunk as I oft do, I walked over, woke Loyal Brother Dog who protects and guides me, Liverwurst and bacon, he received his thank filled offering too!
Nature, of wonder she holds me, always provides, surprise? Never! That is for those that sit home at night with their televisions and pizza pies!
So it is, time for me to tell of the dream. The Sacred White Birch, while others sleep the winter deep, or, wallow in cries of self pity, lives her life to the fullest, no quarter given, no compromise!