Moonrise

Moonrise

The fields of stars
Children of the night
Pale near the hills
As their queen ascends among them
Vanishing the lesser stars
With her clear silver light
Painting shadowy hills far off.

To stand by a lake
Deep in the forest night
Is to see her pale light
More clearly casting deeper shadows
Across the mirror still water
And to know why ancients
Thought her ruler of the night.

Wolves greet her
With their lonely voices
Beyond the shadows of the hills
Singing their timeless songs
Even they know and greet her
The wilderness welcoming its
Ancient goddess.