Where sleeps the crescent moon
and drifts bright stars away
to bring a song of light
glowing from a thicket there
where tawny birds take flight
or dappled in the wooded trees
foggy breathed the morning light
with rousing sounds of faeries there
drowsy in their dreaming cares
they bid farewell unto the night,
to stars that sail swift into the evanescent light.

Now springs another day from this woodland place
soft with mossy grays or starry lichen lace
green the leafy ferns will wake
with scented rains, wet upon the bark
incense cedars drift and swirl
sweet, the air of smoke
until alas the sun, so brilliant comes
from behind a clouded cloak
and disappears once more
the dawn that softly spoke.