Mercurial and moody 
Roan changes her mind minute by minute
Sapphire skies to gilded clouds to purple robes to icy rain
Then summons the wind, roars her praise
The King comes!
The King comes!
Silver beech stand sentinel
Sway in anticipation
Poplars, tall and proud
Bow down, remove their crowns
The King comes!
The King comes!
Crashing waters, foamy white 
Tumble from ridge tops
Sing, splash, laugh
Shout for joy
The King comes!
The King comes!
Air like fine wine carries
Celebration scents
Balsam crushed in fingertips
Wood smoke, rain, and all things new
The King comes!
The King comes!
Old as creation, Roan’s rocks cry out 
Put down your work
Rehearse your lines
Proclaim with all nature
The King comes!
The King comes!
