Dust On the Head

Before the mid night, Under the elms beside my cottage I stood still wet by the gentle falling rain, watching it drenching the nature reserves. Where the gentle breeze from the cold touching my eyes lovely, closing in the mild feeling of the open heaven. Then i dreamt, in my dead i dreamt In my dream i saw, a waiver bird Laying egg on a sycamore tree. I moved nearer to wish her well Tis was a frightened call i heard ,in a feminine voice i heard I knew she call my name , in a language i knew not She spokes into my head. I woke up in a cold sweat My staggering self saw nothing but a dancing flame blowing away my cold While it rain still yet the flame dancing without a trace of its heat. Frightens! i move sideward for exit, then i heard a song : a soft and sounding song of a songbird Singing a preach of a sermon of divination Telling nations the need to repent Ringing loud unto every ears that hear.