Snow falls
In the twilight of the evening
White owls
Sweep the fields like ghosts a-hunting
Light fades,
Softly in the valleys winter feathers flying
In waves
Silent snowdrifts tossed and turning on the windbeams.

O God of small things
Save us from beak and claw
And owls on the wing.

Snow lies
Black the sky but white the hillsides.
Owls fly,
Gliding past in silver rhythms.
Night stirs,
Wind in trees and hedgerows starts the music playing
Whispers
And hymns of life and death are sung
By quick and dying.

O God of small things

This night
Crystal tipped and full of wonder
Frost light
Shines on eye and fur and whisker.
Small things,
Our every nerve and sinew watching for the danger
Night brings
But sharp our joy with every precious moment living.

O God of small things...