Beneath a sky of stars and moths
She trails her light through olive groves.
And silences the nightingales.
The stars are stilled, the moon is dimmed.
Her breathing draws the warmth from earth,
Her feet float soft as owl’s wings,
She leaves no trace, she makes no mark:
This is her world, this is her night
She walks amongst her sleeping flock:
They twitch and flick, but barely move.
They trust her, breathe as one with her,
She guides their dreams to mountain pasts.
She is the shepherdess of souls,
Across the streams of Epirus.