Over the lake, the rising moon,
Beginning the night’s lively tune.
An owl calls from the tall white pine,
Here is a night so truly fine.
The lake, bathed in the moon’s pure light,
Beauty so real, an awesome sight.
Silence breaks, with the loon’s long cry,
Carried far, through the still night sky.
And on a distant hill is heard,
A howling wolf, who now has stirred.
It’s voice echoes, so loud and clear,
Which makes it feel, that ’tis right near.
Then once more, silence fills the night,
And o’er the lake, the moon shines bright.
©2021 Steve McLeod.