In the snow-warbled song of Night,
shuffling through the lonely glade, I pray :

Let the Angels come
to cradle us;
to rock our hearts and souls and minds;
To ease our heated spirits; our frightened children;,
To chase away all ghosts and pain.

I cry this out under starlight, for all of us:
The kindred aged, bent and burning;
The wicked winds and tumbled rocks;
The silent trees;
the animals,
beyond us,
vanishing;
The clouded skies;
the sleeping bugs; the moving waters.

My prayers
flung aloft
out of the Forest,
up
Into raging Heaven,
For Earth,
and All
Earthly things.