Cold Tranquility Descends

On winter's nights, so calm, so still,
the Goddess starts to sing,
a voice of warmth against the chill,
that touches mortal wing,
a moon lit beacon, over hill
and valley peace She'll bring.

This tranquil spot amid the stone,
the words of Ancient's call,
on moment passed from maid to crone,
where boulders remain tall,
and blighted frost inspires the tone,
embraced within prayer shawl.

My Goddess sits in skies serene,
amid the night's star light,
ponder Her gaze upon the scene,
Her love where hearts unite,
the gift of peace from heaven's Queen,
as souls on Earth delight.

 © Jem Farmer 2009, All rights reserved