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Her song, sung early from the womb
into the starfields of a northern moon,
comes clearest when all is hushed.
If awaited, it springs forth as a high mountain
snow as it melts...first a trickle, then a tumbling
waterfall, lastly, a well determined flow of sound.
Her song is not always heard by the closest ear.
It takes the understanding heart to catch
the harmonies, the varied pitch and phrased
melody that contains the lyric.
Lilting and sweet when free to trust,
her song is a friend, strong, sure, caring.
Often neither dark nor light, the middle tune is
the secret song she sings to the stars.
copyright R J Fernalld 2006
Used with permission
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