Irish Elk

(This is another sestina from back in the day.  Again, these are poems with 6 stanzas, 6 lines each, and the same 6 final words in different positions.  Takes a few tries to get them right since you can go 5 stanzas with ease then run into a mess at the finish line.)

He is the shadow of the forest.
Seen by many who are lost.
A towering buck without a herd.
Rarest sight among these trees.
Many believe him to be king.
The lord of all with antlers.

He leaves no markings on the trees
No scars left by his antlers.
He moves with the poise of a king.
Far removed from his adoring herd.
The stag’s prints are quickly lost.
As if they are eaten by the forest.

People talk about his ancient herd.
Once raised for a nameless king.
Fed the leaves of copper trees.
Giving them the sharpest antlers.
Of any creature in the forest.
Before the breed was lost.

Many claim the blood of the king.
They hope to enter the great forest
And return with the precious antlers.
Only few have not been lost.
They say the rest are taken by a herd
The stag can summon from the trees.

Many come forth with false antlers.
These they swear were shed from the herd.
All other proof has long been lost
By the timeless, growing forest.
The only ones who know are trees.
Who existed at the time of the king.

Even though the truth is lost
And none can whisper with the trees.
The stag still lives within the forest.
Acting like he is the rightful king.
With golden light born from his antlers.
He is the lord without a herd.