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.

– Eleanor kidd

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

You may use these HTML tags and attributes:

<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>