Against the cold,? ?the fire burns
slowly,? ?above,? ?heavens turn
the trees are clothed in shadows
like old monks in sleeping shrouds
Night creature choirs sing a chorus
all nature's aspects croon? ?"adore us."
And,? ?i sit in soft worship and wonder
deep within the cathedral of night.
Nor do I ever question if God is near
for night winds whisper I Am here.