Two lonely clouds up in the midnight sky

Stray slowly ‘cross the waxing of the moon;

A silhouetted owl dives from on high

Towards the prey astray on silvered dune.

 

The colours of the day are shades of grey

That glimmer in the mantle of the night,

With breeze so light the trees now barely sway,

Like feathers of the predator in flight.

 

The hunting bird then strikes upon the sand,

Its quarry struggling vainly in its claws,

Back to the nest where young will then demand

Their generation’s need in screeching maws.

 

Then once again the peaceful night descends

Among the sandy hills ‘twixt lake and trees,

And like a rock, tranquillity extends

All through this place so we may rest at ease.