Midnight has passed,
The lake is black,
Masses of distant stars
Shimmer, decorating the sky,
A dazzling Christmas tree.
The lonely wail of a train
Disturbs this stillness,
And, then, leisurely fades
Beyond shadowy hills.
Abruptly, like an echo,
A solemn, sonorous cry
Reminiscent of despair
Bursts from inky water,
Haunting, illusory.
Answering the call,
An erratic, trembling peal,
Inducing spine-tingling,
Preternatural feelings,
Ancient fears re-visited.
Provocative, alluring,
This demonic aria,
Flawlessly proffered
By Nature’s unique gift,
Mary Lake’s loons.