Ah to be the only one awake,
To hear so clearly the sounds of nothing,
To track the hours by time spent freely,
To greet the night as moonlight breaks.

This is the life of that lonesome bird,
Who spreads it's wings and twists it's head,
This is the life of that humble creature,
Who sees the sun and greets it's bed.

A quiet thing when all alone,
It finds this state to be it's home,
And in this place of gentle rest,
It stays awake or tries it's best.

But life it seems will not relent,
For daybreak signals most to rise,
The sun is here; you must repent,
For most of life surfs daylight tides.

As work will come with daylight's call,
To see their heavy eyelids fall,
These quiet birds will seem to stall,
For nighttime fun has sapped them all.

But soon enough they will withdraw,
Back to their nesting homes so sweet,
And in that place they'll close their eyes,
To send off daylight with goodbyes.

And they will wake again to see,
That moon of theirs so happily,
To make them smile and sing and dance,
They all celebrate a calm pale glow.

They sing her praise to warm her heart,
For they know her well and true,
That pale blue mistress called the moon,
Has seen them all gliding through the night.


The birds with wings and tilted heads,
Are of course night owls solemn and quiet,
Listen clearly to all they've said,
For their hooting holds wisdom on lonely nights.