The Owl

The Owl

The blackened sky is ebony
The stars are diamonds true
And you can hear the howling wolves
Running after you

The trees are darkened emeralds
With roughened copper boughs
And they shimmer merrily
As you run fast as is allowed

The grass is sharp and crystalline
The vines are golden braids
And when they’re struck with lighting
There is smoke of darkest shades

Above you in the umbral sky
As you run from sharpest teeth
You see the moon sprout wings and fly
With a sliver halo wreath

The Moon becomes a bird of prey
With glossy shining feathers
With starry markings on its wings
The midnight wind she weathers

Talons like small silver blades
Sharpest eye and beak
And soon all the wolves’ howling fades
As the lunar goddess shrieks

And on this day you will account
Creation of sacred fowl
The predator which all surmounts
The Moon’s own mighty Owl