Goddess of the Mist

Magick of the Night

She can feel the magick of the night
the moon a sliver of cold white light
in a star-speckled vastness that no one owns
where mystery stays and finds a home

Mists so thick as they tumble in
from a storm-tossed sea she can hear the din
of those monster waves coming crashing down
on the windswept shores of a sleepy little town

Of a winter white night there can be no doubt
it’s a time when most choose to not go out
the dogs lay sleeping and the children doze
everybody bundled in their warmest night time clothes

Save one little gypsy, looks out at the night
from her rumble tumble caravan, it’s such a sight!
Brightly colored, brightly lit, she’s been from sea to sea
fortunes and divinity, if only you believe

And the road never ends, and the nights are long
she makes it through, day to day
with a prayer and a song