Nightmare Nightingale

Her song is the evening diamond
Splitting light into gemless souls
Carrying them far into sunlit spaces
Her shadow – fibre that fills their holes

How skilfully she flies and hovers
From midnight to morning tree
Filling the notes of the eveningtide
Bombarding their winter-struck dreams

Her beak nocturnal piper
Drawing them like little blind mice
Sleepwalking and sleeptalking
Then she goes  - a sleep slaughtering!

With lashings of her spinning tail
Tapped-in spirits released to roam
Leading these felled ones to a place
Beyond reach to natal nested home

Her humming was the moonlit treacle
Dripping morning to midnight sweet
They indulged during her slumber
Led out into the open – game to beast!

Now they are suspended by her song
Still scattering through Universe free
Distilled by octave embrace
With the sounds of all and forever…

…because Her voice is made of Eternity…