The shadows are dark,
A contrast to the moon's cold light.
What secrets hide within the darker darks
That go deeper than our sight?

The smell of the fallen leaves
And the fires that keep us from the cold;
The smell of wood smoke in the air
That  make us think of things of old.

What did they do in those times that went before?
What songs did they sing?
What tales did they tell
Back in those times of yore?

Do the skies of evening that come so soon
Make you wonder and ponder
Of times gone by and the songs sung in an ancient tune?
Do they make you think of  ancient rhymes
Does the smell of wood smoke bring up dreams
Of elder, ancient times?

The moon with her light
Makes the shadows seem to hold
Ancient mysteries in the night,
In the moonlight so cold.

The cloud is expectant and heavy
I am one of its children being born in the sky
Then, my mother is ready- she releases me
And I descend to the earth from on high.

I fall in time with the other children,
We travel downward, faster and faster we go
Toward our destination.
We feed the earth, waiting below.

We soak the ground, giving it life.
We fill streams, rivers, and seas with their share.
We wait patiently to arise again,
To gather again in the air.

We wait inside another cloud,
As we pass once again through the sky.
Our mother is ready and releases us,
We are born once again in the sky.