our language of love the battle of trees we fought side by side no one had more sharper consonants than you love and my vowels well were trusted first comes the birch rowan followed by the ash then through the alder she forms and merges with willow the hawthorn blossoms as the oak guards the door she is the hinge on which the year swings he courts the lightening flash and her summoning the spirits through incantations you said that thunder god seems to have in our enemy his own laureate but we knew the furies held the holly sacred we were insulated in a circle of words we d drawn with wisdom sent from 9 hazels a rowan fire and a willow rod at 10 comes the vine that generates bramble wine the constant change of the night sun a song in the blood of the white bull  our language of love the battle of trees we fought side by side no one had more sharper consonants than you love and my vowels well were trusted from ivy leaves is an ale that can unveil the hidden meanings and serpents only revealed through visions yes vowels could insert a was for the silver fir the furze or gorse then came next with heather at her most passionate the white poplar s gift to the souls of the dead a promise that it was not the end but for the vine the yew its coffin vowels and consonants the power of trees the power they hold the power of prose so when the church began to twist the old myths they built their own tower of babel from ulster to munster the reed gave way then to the elder the earth turns her wheel so that night follows day from dawn to dawn from winter to winter that day the ash had power over the alder our language of love the battle of trees we fought side by side then he said to me i ve dodged bullets and even poisoned arrows only to be felled by the blade of a vowel 