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By the Light of the Moon (inspirational poetry)
The moon rises high over granite cliffs,
Well above the mountain home,
The beams of light, pierce the night,
As shadows sway, and to roam.
Like sugar sprinkled on tall green trees,
To stand in concentric rows,
By a cooling wind, the fresh airs to blend,
Its spell so ebbs and flows.
A hoot owl's call, does each enthrall,
Announcing the night time's hour.
While in the dark, a restless lark,
Does call and to watch from its bower.
The Whippoorwill, its sound so shrill,
Answers back, in its jealous reply,
A browsing deer, stands quietly near,
No sound, its keen hearing to deny.
A sleeping fox, curled within its den,
Does rest and to stir, in its dreams,
All creatures, rare, each to share,
Beneath the moon's golden beams.
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