Archiv vom Oktober 19th, 2010

When an owl is quietly hooting;
Though the mists be closing densely,
thorns clawing at my chest;
though scree be sliding underfoot,
daylight waning fast;
though icy be the wind,
though treacherous the path:

When the Owl is quietly hooting
I shall not feel alone.
I will not waver,
Will not stray,
Till I'm safe and warm and home.

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