she walked through fields

of night jays lonely singing.

With loons that called out to the wind

a longing cry of sorrow,

and night bird's silent winging.

In lonely glen with shadows dark,

a vision of our future love,

she woke a willow long in sleeping.

She sang to it in a voice most fair.

Its mossy branches shook and creaked,

and from its soul was weeping.

Terrible beauty, a Sidhe most fey,

she sang to the aged tree,

Till willow no longer wept.

She turned and crossed a nearby stream

and disappeared in dark woods there.

Now willow no longer slept.

As a mortal awakened from dark slumbers,

I quickly leapt from rooted place

to follow glint of silver hair.

I crossed the stream on earthy feet

to where she beckoned with shy eyes,

and dancing, joined her there.

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