For the NIght

She told the forest all her secrets, and they listened to every word.

So the forest now knows how she feels inside, by way of her yearning soul.

For in this forest she cursed the wind, and weeped for the vile night.

And all of the oaks and fauna had seen no other sight, than a woman weeping for the night.

This woman crouched, day by day, on the highest perch of the mountain, glum.

And when the darkness came the woman cried, a slave of the trivial sun.

One day a dear, strong and wise, approached the woman on the perch.

And when he asked what ailments she, the woman looked on with her face of hurt.

"Every night," the woman said, "I sit up here and weep."

"Because every day," the woman perceived, "Is another day wasted on me, a lost sheep."