Old Man and His Apprentice

The Old Man and His Apprentice


Be still my son, the old man said.
Listen carefully as I tell,
Of wild, wild, woods,
And things that dwell,
Deep, within the shadows.


You see that tree.
The Tamarack tree?
The one all split and shattered?
One stormy night,
As I walked by.
I heard a cry,
Of kittens, new and helpless.


I saw the mother limping along,
A kitten in her mouth.
A young female,
Not long grown up,
Alone, had given birth.


The rain had come,
And she sought shelter,
For her helpless children.
The only place that she could find,
The tree that you see yonder.


But, she knew not,
It was the home,
Of Foxes, cold and hungry.
Be still my son,
The tale's near done.
Soon you'll no longer wonder.


With a screech and a howl,
The vixen flew,
With a toss of her mouth,
The mother threw her kitten.
It flew through the air,
With a graceful flight.


You landed at my feet,
So quiet and still,
It was hard to tell,
If life was there to stay.
As I stood watch over your tiny soul,
Your mother then did battle.


With claws a-rending, she stood her ground.
Never once did she turn tail.
The battle was long, And the moon was bright.
Both cat and vixen began to tire.


With a final blow,
The female cat,
Vanquished the vixen mother.
As if in honour, as your mother lay,
Dying from her wounds.
The sky grew bright,
The thunder crashed,
As lightning struck the tree.


Be still my son,
And gaze at that tree,
The tree that honours your mother.