In twilight's hush, the night's soft brush,

Paints shadows in the deep that creep and shroud.

The moon's pale glow on fields below,

Drapes silence like a cloud.

With wings so light, the owls take flight,

But the stars leaves scars in fluorescent trails of blood,

They brightly gleam, a silver stream,

A stark difference to heaven’s darkening flood.

The trees converse, a haunting verse,

Beneath the bright light of the skies grand Dome.

A fox's prowl, a distant howl,

Blessing or curse, this universe, is home.

The river's song flows deep and long,

It’s Melody Lowe, as winds blow down under.

The flood flowed cold with inky blood,

And yet the wet sky blinked with stars in deep slumber.