On the birth of our first grandson-

A new Prince is born to the forest. Hush! He sleeps, now, in yonder thicket. Nuzzled by his Dam, watched by his Sire, he sleeps in his soft, damp, warm newness of life. All give thanks to the Maker of all, by whose love the Prince is given. He sleeps now, through this exquisite moment of blessing, unaware of the mountains shaken, the ice fields riven, deserts slaked, rivers surge-swollen, all in salutation of his coming. By the grace of the Good Shepherd, all gather to pay homage- heavy beasts of the field and the earth, light-footed dweller of the forest, tree and stone, swift creatures of the plains, streams and meadows- darting, flashing, swooping birds of the air, of sea and rivers, fleet things and fishes of streams and pools. The Spirit moves over the waters, and all feel this urge to join in praise of his birth. It sounds in the bloodbeat, in hoof and claw, in the quiver of feather, fur and fin. A new Prince is born to the old, old forest, and with all its kith and kin, it is glad with rejoicing. The forest gives thanks to the Giver of all, for this gift of a new Prince.