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

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