Herne, by Yvonne Aburrow
A whisper from silent pools
An answering call from the heart
A leaf uncurled from sleep
A stone hidden among roots
The Hunter wakes from sleep
Horns branching against the moon
Stretches limbs burnished by ancient suns
Gallops off through undergrowth
Footfalls drowned by the hissing of stars
He comes from the depths of darkness
From Amleth's mill, down the diminishing days
Into the winter-shadow'd forests
Where the worlds meet