Berenice Wakefield October, 2011
~Night~
When day is done and night has come in its beauty and splendour
And mortals lie deep in that sleep to which we must surrender
The air grows still the earth bows down as she comes out walking
The stones stand tall the branches fall- the streams and brooks stop talking.
As she stands a maiden fair we really wouldn’t see her there
Her ghostly skin and ethereal air- the stardust in her golden hair
Her hands so gently touch the rocks leaving trails of bright green moss
She whispers to the snake and Ox- the Badger Owl and the Fox
She walks the forest paths for hours lighting up the leaves and flowers
Like the stars that shine so bright all through the dark cold winter nights
In the summer and the fall she’s there always the same for all
She runs so fast and stands so tall- the Belle of the dark midnight ball
As Mother she treads and flowers bloom despite the cold damp and the gloom
Sits with frightened children in their rooms and lonely spirits in their tombs
When all the crops and plants are grown it’s almost time for the wise crone
First though they think they’re all alone -she helps weary night travellers home
As Crone the wise old woman sits and listens to the Will’O’Wisps
She looks at the fast sinking moon and knows she must be going soon
She listens to the birds and flowers both singing in the morning hours
The trees rising up like dark towers relinquish their great night time powers
If you can stop amidst your miles and sit upon a wooden stile
And stay right there for just awhile you’ll hear her voice and feel her smile
All three beings in just one night it takes her strength and all her might
There until the dawns first light- the gentle spirit of the night
(c) Berenice Wakefield 2011
Tags: poem
