The Lady Of The Night
The moon so full upon her perch,
Glacial black velvet, reflecting, the light of the stars,
The Lady Of The Night brushes her fingers on all that she knows,
Leaving a frost that continues to grow,
Grass turns white, the blades they doth wither,
She dips her toes in the cool clear waters,
The ice doth spread, reflections like a mirror,
The Willow Tree now bare, branches touching the mirror,
Now looks like a huge hundred legged spider,
The train of her dress, trails across the fields,
Spreading a whiteness that looks so surreal,
Under her feet, the earth is her canvas,
She only has a few hours of darkness,
No one can see her,
But they know she is there,
They feel her icy cold breath upon them,
As they hurry back to their homes,
With darkness fading as dawn does approach,
She looks at her canvas in the first morning light,
Happy and contented, her painting a delight,
She dances and dances, till she is there no more,
The Lady Of The Night.
Big Hugs
Soaring Bird
© copyright 2009,2010 Soaring Bird aka Steve Miller
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Spiritual energies are like a thumbprint on a glass. In a certain light you can see the print. At a different angle you can no longer see it, but the thumbprint is still there
Today at 12:16 pm by 
Subject: The Lady Of The Night 
