Wise Owl's Page

Is it not a dream that I forsee.
When lead awake at night.
Rise up the earliest songbirds to see,
when met by dawns delight.

Who when the wintery lanterns were spent.
By all that was dread and dark.
Against the rugged larch tree lent.
While ice cracked off it's bark.

Now come the bright stars that we see.
The same cloud covered moon.
Come now my Lady tell me, am I he.
Come tell me, tell me soon.

(November 2007)