Floating In A Fine Gray Mist.

Floating in a fine gray mist the moon is small and white
The owl is hooting in the wood; the echo builds the fright
A rustling first behind, then round, and now is coming near
The woods are daring me to stay and overcome my fear.

Excitement draws a gasping breath, when walking in the dark
I mean to stay in silence here till morning wakes the lark
The creatures of the night are free, no obstacles for them
The darkness is as light to them just as it is in Heaven.

The wonders of Creation are hidden from my view
I’ll use imagination to think what creatures do
When they scurry in a hurry from dark to misty place
Like the anxious beings that belong to the human race.

Wyn Barratt
Sept 2011.