Born of Father,

bitter cold

with touch of frost, bite of ice,

and tears of snow

Born of Mother,

raging hot

with touch of blisters, bite of flame,

and bendless iron will

I am

of the forests, of the mountains, of the valleys and hills.

A soft voice rustling the leaves...

stronger now, rumbling through the trees.

At times, carrying voices and thunderous shouts.

Throwing boulders, plucking roots.

Wild...free