Winter Writings: Day 13

I wake up in the night and peer out the window
between the delicate jeweled frost
that twinkles with starlight.
A dark cloak of solitude
embraces the trees
that by day are an explosion of crowded song
and the secret whispers of leaves.
The moon and stars travel
their endless night journey,
while the moths swirl and churn
around the porch light flame.
A freight train moans in the distance
singing to the rolling river
that captures moonlight
and carries it to the sea.
Beyond the river
is a hundred years ago,
when the night was filled with mystery
and the song of a hundred wild animals.
My soul fills with primitive longing
to belong to the dark night
and ride the cold wind
on the back of a red-tailed hawk
racing towards the dawn.