Beneath limbs where sunlight bends and frays, Radagast the Brown, draped in loam kissed haze,
He murmurs secrets to ears of folded leaf, where lichen whispers of eons held and ages past beyond grief,
His beard, a tangle of burs and briar nest, he understands the rustle, cry, yip, chirp and howl of every beast,
He whom had a thousand eyes, cloaked in pinioned feather, mirrored the moon in emerald moss painted skies,
He treads on woven starlight fingers reaching through the vibrant woods, where gnarled limbs whisper, in the soft hush of twilight, with his willow-wand staff, he paints tender dreams onto canvas of glen, creek, and sand