Early in the morning when the earth stands still,
When the mist is swirling and the clouds are high,
And the Sun is sleeping behind the hills,
But the Moon is not yet in the sky.
The land is bathed in a pale grey light,
All are between sleeping and waking,
It is not day and is not night,
Sweet music the grey winds are making.
Early in the morning the spirits rise,
And they dance in the silent forest,
There among the trees they relive their lives,
And together sing their unearthly chorus.
Early in the morning we are all asleep,
Dreaming of fairies and dragon kings,
While the spirits in the hills quietly weep,
For leave will early morning, on golden wings.
(Copyright (©) 2007. All rights reserved)
© Copyright 2016 Amity Willows. All rights reserved.
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