The tireless warrior rarely sleeps
Eyes rove above his fields
Watching and patiently enduring slumber
The empty darkness never shields
Straining to hear their cries for help
The harvester whets his blades with stone
Until his day star removes the canopy of night
That the moon could not atone
In stunning speed this night assassin
Owns the silence that gives its shroud
It's angels flight denies salvation
Nor time for prayers allowed
The first bird the sprung to mind was an owl, a big majestic white barn owl with a six foot wing span, excellent visuals within your words.nicely done... Annette
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good job Annette...that's exactly what it is