Twisting round thee, silver, brown
I wrap the sun with wings of stars
Gentle mists to kiss thy sight
Dripping dew to quench thy thirst.
Healing ocean, Mare of Night
The moon bathes all in silver light
Rocking tides sing thee to sleep
And follow her unto thy rest.
Darkness singing, rest thy soul
Twining, fleeting, bright the moon
Drawing down unto thy breast
Still thy cries and bless thy peace.
The chalice holds what quenches thirst
It circles thee and grants thee bliss
And drinking deep, do fall to sleep
Till wake'st again to dance once more.
© Anne Cross, 1997