She slips from the wood with ease ...

Lithe figure moving to the breeze
as it rustles through the midnight
trees.

Timeless is she who wakes at
sunset, watching the colours
mix in perfection.

... no picture is the same each night.

Refracted stars in childlike eyes as
she gazes upwars to the sky, reveling
in the newness of the night.

But midnight ...

... the witching hour ...

... perfection.

All is quiet as she treads softly the
crunchy leaves, weaving through
the trees.

... they talk you know ...

It calls to her from a distance, that
shimmering lake as the full moon
dances upon the ripples.

She stretches out along the cool water,
gazing upwards to the twinkling heavens.
Serenity at midnight in this place, where
silence mixes with the coolness.

Midnight's beauty, her magick ...

... heals.