Listen

Heart of stars, eyes of night,
You know the hidden things
That dare not cross our sight.
Tell us, teach us,
Whisper to us secrets
That thrive outside the light.

Creatures that twist and turn
In the feathered fields
As the darkest hours burn.
They know us well,
But our knowledge fails -
We want and wish to learn.

Then listen!  We begin -
Not at your feet you’ll find
A grub with copper skin.
It’s called a spuh
And feeds upon the
Toothy daisy lion.

The dancing turnips tend
The beastly butterbees
That blend the western wind.
And to your right you’ll
Never see the frogbull,
Who’ll gladly eat a friend.

Look quick and you’ll just miss
The twisting tweedle pile
And twisted, tortured bliss.
You’re lucky you can’t see
Such things or you’d join me
In this endless abyss.

Thanks for teaching the foul.
Should you need us just
Loose your hooty howl.
We’ll always listen.
Our hearing’s never done,
Dear twilight owl.

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Drawn by Kirsten

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