Not day or night
Around sun and mist
Over collors that fight
The last dawn's kiss

Not dark or light
Hills of heather gray
Between montains so high
Through flowers in may

Seen on the shore
Rising on far east
Aurora rises longing for the west storm

Not wind or rain
They met on running creek              
Pines and scented grain
Trees listening to them speak

Not wake or dream
Through the mosses bare
Seen by all forest folk
They layed so unaware