Therese Gramercy . . . the girl named Trees

Tree lights at night


The arctic night is so cold, under cloudless skies,
I pull the covers a bit tighter, almost up to my eyes,
when I hear tiny footsteps above my head,
and I wonder who in this world would not be in their bed.

An owl calls out in the low hours of the night,
searching for his love under stars so bright.
Woo-woo-woooo, he cries out, where are you?
Coo-coo-coooo, he serenades her, I love you.

From a nearby branch, just waiting for his song,
she perches so prettily, and returns his call.
Hoo-hoooo, my love, I am right here.
Woo-woooo, one moment, and I will be there.

I hear a flutter of wings on the roof above,
and I smile as I think that owls are like us,
lovers, flirting, in the dark arctic night,
encircling and fluttering and wooing ‘til light.